A Writers Mind
by Elizabeth Rowland
Summary: Sarah is a writer with a broken soul, Jareth is a King with a broken heart. As a King helps a writer to become whole again, they must both fight to prevent thier worlds from merging, and stop those with wings of white from returning.
1. Helping Hands and Hardened Hearts

Chapter One: Helping Hands and Hardened Hearts

The Goblin King sat slumped on his throne in the empty room. No one bothered him, not very often anyway. Very few dared to do so. Though the friends of his love tried to persuade him to at least try and become his normal ruthless self again. That would never happen unless Sarah came back to him. Unfortunately that was about as likely as a fish breathing out of water in the Upperground.

As he sat, Jareth toyed with a crystal. A crystal which held her image. It was his happiest memory, yet it brought him almost unbearable pain. Both of them were in the crystal, dressed in their fine ballroom clothes. Sarah looked so beautiful; his heart ached at the sight of her. Her dark, silky, brown hair pinned back with silver vines, almost no makeup, her pale pink lips slightly curved into a smile and her grey-green eyes shining with a subtle joy. He could almost remember nothing from before this girl stole his heart. And perhaps that was a good thing, as his memories held more horrors than imaginable.

He had paid close attention to her as she read and re-read the book her mother had given her. Not realising that it was her own story, told in a tongue as old as the immortal Underground. A prophesy told by his sister centuries ago. That a mortal of the Upperground, but with a heart from the Underground, would breathe life to the cold stone heart of the Goblin King, then snatch it away. Not really being a believer in prophesies, Jareth had shrugged off the Oracles warning. Despite said Oracle being his sister.

He sighed heavily. No matter what he did he could not escape the sound of her name or the image of her face. Everyone was still talking about how a young woman had beaten the Goblin King. She had gained celebrity status in his Labyrinth andall through the Underground. A simple, imaginative, mortal from the Upperground had conquered his vast maze and broken his heart of stone.

It had been just over a month since he had seen her for real. Why had she rejected him? He had offered to make her dreams a reality, to give her his kingdom. Did that mean nothing to her? He had even shown her the briefest moments of his emotions, somethingvery few othershad ever seen.

He heard footsteps approach the throne room, roughly three approached. Did they know nothing of his mood? Or were these Sarah's friends, once again come to bravely pester him? Jareth gently set the crystal on the floor, just in case he became tempted to throw something at them again. He had destroyed one of his favourite crystals that way, and he had missed, which had not helped his mood.

* * *

Sir Didymus climbed from Ambrosias' back and landed on the cold stone floor. "Why do we continue to do this? I have only just finished picking the shards of crystal from my steeds' fur." Asked the agitated fox knight.

"Ludo miss Sarah." Moaned his beast brother in arms. The dwarf, Hoggle shook his head.

"We all does. That's why we be doin' this. When the little lady's older Jareth migh' be able to bring her back home."

"It's a good job I am a brave and noble knight, sir, or the task at hand would seem daunting."

"It was your idea!"

Grumbling, the defeated knight proudly made his way to the throne room. The impressive, yet un-amused, figure of the Goblin King was slouched in a manor that could hardly be described as regal, impatiently watching his every move. "Majesty-"

"What do you want?" Snapped Jareth, before Sir Didymus had any chance to speak. Forcing down a frown and a growl, the small knight began to explain himself. "I may have an idea which could help bring the fair maiden back into the realm in which she belongs."

"Not another one of your harebrained schemes. I've had all I can stomach when it comes to those." Now the fox did frown and growl. The least that Jareth could do was hear him out.

The Goblin King raised his eyebrow at the behaviour of Sir Didymus; it was unlike him to loose his composure in such a way. "I believe that she may be too young to understand such matters. She is, after all, only sixteen. Perhaps it was experience that she lacked, not love." Spoke the knight with the small rumble in his throat of a suppressed growl.

"What are you proposing?" Asked Jareth dully. It seemed as though he were only half listening, just in case something interesting was said.

"Well……………"

* * *

Sarah sat on her bed in her tiny bedroom, in her tiny apartment. Life had not gone particularly well after her trip into the Labyrinth. Two years after that her little brother, her step mother and her father had died in a car crash. She had somehow survived it, but had no idea how. She had failed to get any qualifications good enough to get into college because of her grief, and now, five years after that, Sarah worked as barmaid and occasional singer in a bar to support her writing.

Despite her imagination and talent, she never seemed to be able to get anything published. She slaved over her manuscripts, which every one of her few friends had said were brilliant. But no matter how hard she worked, no publishers ever accepted her work. They all said that her work was too dark and foreboding, and that to sell she had to have a certain amount of light and happiness in them.

Happiness. Ha! What motive did she have to be happy, or write about happy things? Her spirit had been devoid of any such emotion for so long that she could barely remember them. Her life was a miserable mess and she had no one she cared about or who cared about her. At least not outside of the Underground. No. Her books would not become sickeningly nice and cheery simply so she could make a few bucks. They would stay dark and dismal.

Not for the first time, Sarah found herself wishing that she had never left the Labyrinth. That she had never solved it. Toby would have become a goblin, but at least he would still be alive. At least she would not have had to go through the pain of loosing everything and everyone she cared about.

* * *

On her way home from work, walking down a practically deserted street, lined with closed shops, Sarah saw something very unusual. What was such a small and old book shop doing open past midnight? The sign was rusty and most of the paint had flaked off, but she could still read it. "Labyrinth Volumes". Could it be? Or was the name simply a coincidence?

Biting her bottom lip, a mental war waged within her mind. Should she go in or not? If it was simply a coincidence she would only be disappointed, and if it was not. . . Sarah had no idea how she would react if this book shop was ran by one of the Undergrounds inhabitants. Oh now she was being silly. Of course it was just a coincidence, only Jareth could move freely between the Upper and Under worlds, and he was not exactly going to waste his time running a tiny book shop in a town that no one had ever heard of. But still . . . There was always a chance that some link tied this place to the Goblin Kings domain.

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Sarah pushed the shop door open and walked in, ringing the small bell on the inside of the door. The musky scent of books hit her like physical force. Thankfully, it was a smell she was quite fond of. The shop itself was far larger than the front, and the interior of the other shops on this street, would have allowed her tobelieve. It was fairly dark, lit by bare low watt bulbs dangling from the ceiling, but it was still light enough to read in, and shelves crowded the floor, turning it into somewhat of an obstacle course. _Or a maze_, she thought dully. It was what decorated the walls which held her attention though.

Crystals with tiny figures in them, tapestries which were finely stitched and paintings that seemed too life like to be on canvas. Almost all of which showed her as she was when she had entered the Labyrinth. Some were familiar scenes, such as dancing with the Goblin King, being surrounded by the fieryies and helping Ludo to his feet, but some she had never seen before, even though her age was the same. These included some very bizarre creatures she had never met, such as a large crocodile standing on its hind legs and wearing the finery of gentlemen from Victorian Briton, shielding her from a burst water pipe, and that was the least strange painting.

Finally her eyes fell on the counter and the man who sat behind it. He was very attractive, if not eerily familiar. His long blonde hair was tied back in a neat pony tail, his skin was a little pale and he wore immaculate black clothing. For some reason he also wore make up on his eyelids which reached to just above his brow on the outer sides. It would have been seen as fairly normal, _if_ it were still the eighties. Unfortunately it was 1993 and most men did not still wear make up. Though she had to admit, he suited it and it seemed to make him look even more attractive. The other noticeable thing that he wore was a pair of thin rimmed glasses which seemed to be irritating him, or perhaps it was the script he sat reading that brought that look of mild disgust to his well formed face, giving his lip a small almost unnoticeable sneer and his brow a slight furrow.

Shaking her head once again for being overly analytical, a writers curse was to pick out the detail in everything, Sarah headed over to one of the shelves near the back of the shop, though her ulterior motive for this was that it was also near the counter. She could not shake away the feeling that she had seen this man before. Were she writing of this she would have said that she was drawn to the man, who sat listlessly reading at the counter, by an indescribable feeling of familiarity. But she was not writing so she simply stuck with feeling weird.

Struggling to keep her mind away from the stores other occupant, Sarah scanned the books which crowded the shelf she stood at. All of them seemed to be fantasy and they were bound in the same manner, with a tough tan or black leather. From the lack of any other materials used for the covers, she guessed that they were hand made.

A short, disgusted, derisive, laugh caught her attention and she turned to see the stores attendant leaning back in his chair staring at the mound of paper before him with nothing short of contempt as he began to grumble to himself. "A monkey could write a better story if you shoved the pen up its-" He stopped abruptly when he realised that he was not alone and gave an embarrassed cough, closely followed by a nervous half smile and then disbelief. He looked to Sarah, then to the painting to her right, and back again several times. A deep frown furrowed his brow as he stared at her and the painting of the girl sat on the floor, talking to worm.

"Did you-" He stammered, "I mean, do you know the artist of all of this?" Sarah smiled politely, even if it was a little cold, but all of her smiles were now cold. This did not seem to discourage him from slowly taking in her appearance through appreciative blue eyes. Actually, now she looked, they were both different colours. The left blue, and the right brown.

"No. It's just a coincidence I'm afraid." She answered somewhat warily. She was not used to people she did not know talking to her outside of the bar she worked in.

He slowly climbed to his feet and made his way to her side to hold his hand out to her. "My name's Jareth." Hesitantly she took his hand. It was just another coincidence . . . She hoped. Unfortunately, his tall frame and attractive appearance were against her on that matter.

"Sarah." She mumbled shyly, taking her hand back as soon as possible. If this was the Goblin King, she had no idea what he was doing pretending not to know her, or wearing glasses for that matter, but she would play along . . . For now. If only for lack of anything better to do.

"Well," he said happily, clapping his hands together enthusiastically, "how can I help you? Are you interested in buying, or do wish to see if I will print something you have written?" Sarah gave another coy but cold smile and mumbled her answer.

"I didn't know that you printed peoples work."

"If it's anything like that one," he replied, harshly gesturing to what she now knew was another writer's manuscript, "I don't. However, if they have been rejected from publishing for no good reason, say . . . it isn't something that the public particularly wish to hear, but it has a good story line and is well written, then I see it as my gain at the publishers' loss." His voice was as entrancing as his appearance, soft and gentle, but she could easily tell that it could turn venomous and hard in an instant, even if she had never met him before and was not judging from previous experience. Which she was. Though to be fair it was hard not to.

She thought for a moment, pushing away all notions of this Jareth and the King of the Labyrinth being one and the same. All she really wanted now was to see the work she slaved over take its rightful place on the shelf of a book store. "If I brought one of my manuscripts in tomorrow, what would you do with it?" He took in a deep breath and looked to the side of her in order to recall exactly what he would do.

"Obviously I'd read through it. Once I'd done that, if it were good enough, I would then contact someone to design the illustration for the inside cover and print it. You would get fifty percent of the profit I make from selling it, which, I'm afraid, is a pathetically small amount since I have neither the time nor the resources to sell more than a few copies."

"Money doesn't matter to me." She replied firmly. "All that maters is my writing. I don't really care about anything else anymore." All signs of amusement, or happiness fell from Jareth's face. Most would have said that his expression was blank, but Sarah, who could easily pick out the most minute of details and use up a page to describe it, saw the faintest glimmer of worry shimmer deep within his mismatched eyes.

"You should not live solely to write. There most be something else you enjoy." He probed softly. Sarah simply shook her head slowly, with a truly empty expression.

* * *

Jareth almost could not believe what he was hearing. His love had lost all but one reason for living. Had she no friends? Family? Any thing? An idea struck him. She was obviously simply following his lead in ignoring their past, thankfully, so perhaps she would agree. "How about we go for coffee in stead of you bringing your writing here?" The object of his desires and affections simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his proposition.

"I doubt that I could provide any conversation for you." She answered icily. "I'm not a particularly social creature and I'm more than just a little out of practice."

"That's fine." He replied with a smile, she was not going to get out of it that easily. "I would more than make up for your lack of speech. It's incredibly difficult to shut me up." Sarah gave yet another slight but cold smile, seeming genuinely amused, if not to any grand scale.

"I don't know." She finally answered, though she seemed mistrustful of him, which given their history was understandable, she still appeared to be considering his suggestion.

With a smile that he desperately hoped was sweet, he looked over the top of his glasses in the direction of the blur that was Sarah. It really irritated him that he needed glasses if he fully entered this realm. "Please. Don't make me take the glasses off and do the puppy dog eyes." He warned seriously. Not that he'd be able to see her if did.

For the first time he heard her laugh, and it was not cold and unfeeling, it was genuinely amused and entertained. She had no doubt just had one of the most bizarre mental pictures of her life. The Goblin King, as she remembered him, standing over her dauntingly, with big round sad eyes and a pet lip.

"Somehow, I can't really imagine you doing that." She laughed as Jareth looked at her through the lenses of his hated glasses once again. He found her with a wide and warm grin spread across her face.

"To spend a little time with such a beautiful creature as yourself, milady, I would gladly humiliate myself." She considered for just over a second before giving her answer.

"Since you're so desperate, good sir, how can I refuse?"

After much bickering about the time and place of their meeting, it seemed that their working hours were most awkward when setting up a meeting such as they were attempting, they finally found an appropriate time and place. He made sure to flatter her throughout their short conversation, but he never saw another warm smile or heard a real laugh. She did, however, blush quite frequently. It seemed that she was not accustomed to receiving complements. He wondered briefly how much social interaction she took part in outside of work. From her lack of prowess at conversation, he guessed that it was very little. When they finally found a time that they could agree on, Sarah left quickly and with a shy smile, which was no different from all of her others. It seemed that spending time with someone was an intimidating experience for her.

"Hoggle." The Dwarf who had once been so much more than a Dwarf came through the door behind the counter which led back into the Underground. "What has happened to Sarah over the years to leave her heart so hardened?" Her friend simply gave a heavy sigh.

"She be all alone in the world now. 'Er parents and little brother were killed by one of them cars."

"Has she never called on you or one of the others?" he asked with concern flooding his voice.

The dwarf shook his head then sighed. "Not very of'en Sire. She throws 'erself into her writing. I think she's scared of caring about someone in case they die."

The Goblin King frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sore from his wretched glasses. "That is something I shall have to remedy, though I believe it may take some time."

* * *

A/N Please review. 


	2. Coffee With a King

Chapter Two: Coffee with a King

Sarah had not spent so long getting dressed since she had gone to her family's funerals. Why she was so concerned she had no idea. After all, he was only the owner of a book store, she thought with a slight smile, the mental image of a dark and imposing King loaming over her with large, sad round eyes and a trembling lower lip making another appearance in her minds eye.

She would have worn more fashionable clothes, but she was going straight to work after her talk with Jareth, and she did not want to give the drunks and alcoholics a reason to notice her. So instead she wore something blander, jeans and a plain black t-shirt. That had not taken her too long to put on, but her makeup and hair were taking a fairly long time. Eventually she managed something that the drunks of the club would not pick up on, but hopefully Jareth would.

A quick glance at her watch told her that it was time to leave. She snatched up the manuscript that she wished him to look through, grabbed her bag and her key and rushed out of the door, remembering to lock up behind her. Why was she so nervous? It was not as if she was romantically interested in him. He was good looking enough but their previous encounter and not actually knowing him was enough to put her off. Though to be honest it was more not actually knowing him than their previous encounter. For all she knew he could be a kind and caring person, but from what she had seen in the Labyrinth, she highly doubted it. What she had seen clearly indicated that he was ruthless, quick tempered and arrogant. No. She was not interested in him at all when it came to romance; she just wanted to make a good impression to help him decide that she was worth bothering with when it came to publication. That was all. There was nothing else to it. Absolutely nothing. She hoped.

As she walked she tried to keep her pace even, she did not want her land lord, who lived across the hall, to here her rushing out. She owed him money and did not want to deal with the lout just yet; she would pay him when she could. The floor board creaked beneath her foot.

"Damn," she whispered as quietly as she could. Maybe he had not heard it. Perhaps she cou-

"Sarah! You no good bum!" No such luck. The door was flung open behind her. With a heavy sigh she slowly turned to face the over grown gorilla, her eyebrow raised in question. He was grotesque. Large, fat and filthy with the pungent smell of sweat and alcohol drifting to her nostrils. His beady black eyes studied her with lusty distrust over his rat like nose. At least three days worth of stubble pricked at his flabby jowls and fat face. It was enough to make her wretch.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the esteemed writer," he growled sarcastically. "Too busy throwing together her next best seller to pay her land lord." His eyes roamed her figure appreciatively and she fought down a shudder of disgust. "Now. Where. Is. My. Rent?" He said each word slowly and deliberately, as if she was a simpleton. Then he answered himself, as he always did, using that repulsive suggestive voice he obviously thought was alluring. "Of course, if you can't afford it, there are other ways of paying. I think you'll find that I can be very . . . generous, under the right circumstances."

Sarah curled her lip in disgust and narrowed her eyes. "I get paid tonight. You'll have your _money_ in the morning." She put as mush stress on the word money as she could without sounding like an idiot.

"Fine," huffed the great mound as he manoeuvred his gigantic frame back into his stagnant apartment.

"You'll only ever have me you dreams you perverted, fat, bastard, and if I had my way you would not have then either," mumbled the repulsed young woman before turning away and rushing out of the dilapidated apartment block, irritated at how clichéd her living arrangements were and determined to show the world just how good a writer she was. Some day she would prove all of her critics wrong.

* * *

Hoggle had very nearly laughed at Jareth. Thankfully he had managed to turn it into an attack of coughing before the king suspected any thing. But he could not help it. The way he was acting because of his meeting with Sarah was just so amusing. It was as though his Majesty had suddenly turned into a teenager with a crush. It was one of the funniest things he had ever seen in his life.

A King who was over sixteen hundred years old was behaving like a sixteen year old, about to go on their first date. It was hilarious. He had spent almost half an hour on eyeliner alone. He had been overly meticulous when it came to his eye shadow and he had spent the last the two hours deciding what to wear only to pick something that was so casual it looked as though he had dressed in half an hour rather than in three and a half. But the hair had been the most amusing by far. He had painstakingly dried it, brushed it, styled the fringe so that it hung over his eyes then perfectly tied the rest back into a pony tail that purposefully looked rough.

That had been when Hoggle snapped. He ran as fast as he could away from his King's chamber, finally running into Ludo and Sir Didymus and breaking down into hysterical laughter which very quickly turned into quite cruel imitations and then ridiculously loud group mirth and amusement. Over all, it had been quite a good day so far.

* * *

Why in all of the Underground was he so nervous about seeing Sarah? It was not as if it was some sort of date. If anything it was a simple cup of coffee with a business associate. She would certainly see it as such. That was the reason he had taken so long to dress, being so careful to achieve a perfect casual but well presented effect. Well, he did not want to make a bad impression with a perspective client. Though in all honesty he was just trying to combat his fear of scaring her off. After all, this would be the best chance to begin a friendship that he could build on. Magic knows she needed a friend, though he hoped he would be able to become much more than that.

Finally he left his chamber through the door that lead into his shop. It was dark, but he kept walking at his usual fast past until-"Ow! Feck! That hurt!" He walked into the counter with a loud crash, whacking his knee off the solid but blurry wood and only just managing to turn a very foul word into nonsense. If he had actually sworn then his goblins would have been imitating his behaviour for months.

With a sigh and a fairly painful knee, his turned about and regally limped back into his chamber, squinting in the vain hope that it would improve his vision. The light hit his eyes as he opened the door and once he had stepped back into his realm he could again see perfectly. And he saw his wretched glasses sitting innocently on his bed side cabinet, next to a slender black candle, half burned down. Muttering to himself darkly, he hobbled over to the damned things, glaring at them as though it was their fault he had foolishly injured himself and snatched them up fiercely. Then, with his thin rimmed glasses firmly in his un-gloved hand, he limped purposefully towards the door once again.

Once through it he donned his spectacles and strode towards the door out of the store, fighting to keep the limp from his gait. His eyes narrowed in the light of the Upperground, unfamiliar to the sharpness of this world's sun light. A glance to his watch told him that he would be early, ridiculously early. Even after a millennium and a half he still could not get used to the difference in times between the realms. Now that stubborn weakness which refused to leave him had given him two hours with nothing to do but work himself up into a nervous wreck again. Wonderful. Oh well. At least he would not be limping when it was time to meet Sarah, that really would have been humiliating. He just hoped that he would not be a jittery idiot.

After a moment of indecision Jareth set off down the moderately busy street, pointedly ignoring all of the humans in his way. Though he did glare at the ones who gave him strange looks, most probably because of his makeup. He knew that it had gone out of fashion in this realm for a man to wear makeup, but to be blatantly honest he just did not care. It was normal for men to wear makeup in the Underground, and it was actually stranger for them not to do so, especially if they were human in appearance. In fact the only time he had not worn it since coming into maturity was when he had been fighting in the war against the Aboveground, the War of the Wings as it had come to be known, but then he had been more interested in the swords in his hands, than any form of personal grooming. Everything then had been for speed and attack rather than appearance.

That war had been terrible. It had destroyed one of the most noble and honourable Kingdoms in the Underground. The Sylph Kingdom. Nature weavers. They had sacrificed themselves to banish the Aboveground denizens from the two land bound realms. All that was left now was stone where there had once been roses, marble where there had once been water and precious jewels of every kind where there had once stood a Sylph. The entire Kingdom was a wasteland of rock and gem stones, a desolate and lonely monument to the fair race of the Sylph. No light ever shone over the valley Kingdom now. It seemed as though nature itself had abandoned the place when its people had turned to crystals.

Why was he thinking of this now? Though he had to admit that lately his mind had been lingering on past war time horrors far more often than he would like. It had been almost fourteen centuries since the end of the war. Since the Sylph fell. Since the two sister realms were safeguarded against the almost demonic sky realm, at the cost of their own connection. The King looked up as he walked. He had been a prince then. Newly immortal and willing to lash out at anything. He shuddered to think that he had descended from the foul birds that he knew loamed above, but he and his sister had been wished away to the Goblin King of the time and when their parents did not bother to look for them, they had shed their fetid wings and been adopted by the King who had spirited them away. Unfortunatly their wings refused to completely leave them, they could only be hidden.Even now he had strange flashes of guilt for what he had helped wrought in his mother realm and once or twice he had even wondered what would have happened had all three realms managed to live in peace as they once had.

But boundaries had been risen, permanent boundaries. It had been clear that another war could not be risked, even though the two ground realms had coexisted well for longer than any immortal could remember. The war had almost destroyed the Upperground and so it could not be put in harms way again. But still, he wondered at the possibility. He wondered if the parents who had renounced his sister and himself still lived. But most of all he wondered at the ancient power of the Sylph. It had been an incredible feat to erect barriers between all three realms, whether or not it had all but destroyed them.

At this thought she appeared, almost as if he had summoned her himself and for a sparse moment he thought he had. The King stopped and shook his head. She was just as he remembered her. The light blond hair, bobbed at her shoulders. The mismatched eyes just like his own, but blind and paler behind her dark lensed glasses. She used her Sight to see what was around her, looking in the future that was so close to happening that it was practically the present. The tall frame, soft skin and clothes of flowing white and gold silk. Of course in this realm she wore her skirt to her knees and her blouse was simply styled with very little embroidery. His sister. It was so obvious from their appearance that they were twins that the thought that they were related never crossed anyone's mind. Though he blamed that on posture. She stood shyly, her shoulders relaxed and a slight smile almost always in place. He stood tall; shoulders back with an unfailing sneer or glare. They were as opposite in personality as they were alike in appearance.

"Celeste, I would love to say that it is a joy to see you again, but in all honestly every time I have seen you in the last four centuries you have been warning me of some dire prophesy of yours," he sneered affectingly. Her smile warmed slightly at the tone of his voice, she had obviously expected him to still be angry with her from the last time they had spoken, when she had told him about Sarah, almost three centuries ago now.

"It has been too long, Jareth. But you are right. I should not come solely to inform you of chancing destinies involving you." Her voice was as shy as her posture and she blushed, looking down to the ground. "Even so, that is the reason I have come to you once again."

The King smiled and shook his head. For a Seer, Celeste had terrible timing. "I won't take much of you time brother, but this is something you should know."

"What is it?" Though he had tried, he had also failed to keep the exasperated note from his voice.

"I take it our connection is as strong as it has always been on your part?"

"If you mean do your thoughts still influence and intrude on my own, then yes, they do." She sighed in relief and her nervous smile widened. "Then I suppose you are the reason my most recent thoughts have dwelled upon events I would far rather forget."

"The war?" Jareth nodded grimly at her words. "I'm afraid this may open old wounds."

"Can this wait a few hours?" He asked warily, he really did not want to meet Sarah with the atrocities he had witnessed centuries ago at the forefront of his mind. "I'm meeting someone soon," he nervously looked to his watch, subconsciously imitating his sisters' manner. "She is fairly untrusting and I don't want to give her the impression that I am not to be dealt with."

"The mortal? Sarah? Is that why you have obviously put so much effort into looking as though you have put very little effort into your appearance?" She asked mischievously. At Jareth's glare her smile widened. "Awwwwe, my brother's is still in love. Even after what happened, which was all your fault, just thought you should know."

"I am well aware of my misdeeds on Sarah's part and I am now trying to rectify my rash actions," growled the Goblin King through gritted teeth.

His jaw almost dropped when a soft giggle rumbled from the throat of his sister. It was so infrequently that she laughed since her lover was transformed into the Dwarf, Higgle, Hogwash, or what ever his name was, he would remember it when he was annoyed. Of course Celeste did not know of her lover's fate, she had assumed that he had found someone else. His irritable mood vanished almost as soon as the silky noise reached his ears and a slight smile curved the corners of his lips. "What has lifted your mood?" Jareth asked, his voice good natured as he strode up to his sister and took her arm. She smiled and blushed as they started to walk together.

"I've Seen him Jareth. He is going to come to come back to me." There was a girlish note to her voice he had not heard in almost fourteen hundred years, since her proud Elvin general had become a repulsive little scab and lost his dignity, courage and pride.

"But, doesn't that mean . . ." He could not bear to finish. His sisters' face fell, the innocent joy in her posture crumbled away.

"As you said, you'd rather you mind be on happier things when you meet the love of your very long life again, I know that I wish mine could be."

They walked together for a time, never again mentioning the foul past or the impending horrors in the future. Horrors they had both seen before and had hoped to never see again. Instead they turned there conversation to happier topics and talked much as any other close siblings who had not seen each for far too long would talk, regardless of the Seer in the woman and King in the man. And when they parted it was with the promise that they would speak again that day.

* * *

She stood on the corner of the half abandoned, graffiti covered, suburban estate, waiting for a customer. The cold wind nipped at the skin her short skirt left exposed and chilled her chest left open by the low cut, flimsy top she wore. But her trembling was not just because of the winter wind. She had not had a hit in days and it was starting to get to her. That was why she stood, waiting for some perv who couldn't get his leg over the honest way to come and pay for the use of her fifteen year old body.

She was used to it. She had been doing this since she was twelve. She didn't like it. But she was desperate. She needed the money and this was the only way she could get it. She did not even want to think about what would happen if she did not get her fix. The crash would kill her as surly as years of use would, just thousands of times quicker. Death had seemed appealing at first, she had even tried to speed the process up, but after somehow surviving an overdose without anyone there to save her, suicide had seemed so pointless. Now she wanted to live as long as she could, no matter what the conditions of her life.

"'Bout fuckin' time." She mumbled as she saw the dark blue car roll slowly towards her, a Mercedes as well. He was obviously a rich one. She could put her price up and he would not care. With an exaggerated sway to her hips she walked to the edge of the curb as he stopped in front of her. The window went down and she leaned forwards to look through, making sure he got a decent view of the merchandise on offer. The passenger seat was on her side, so he got a better look than most and he wasn't too discreet about looking either. He looked just like all the others to her, featureless except for the lust in his eyes. "How much?" he asked dully. She hoped he wasn't just looking for a cheap shag.

"Sixty quid, an' A want payin' up frun'." After a short moment to consider, he unlocked the door for her.

As she climbed in she heard him say "you better be worth it little girl." She didn't bother replying, she wasn't getting paid to talk.

The window shattered. Her head slammed against the rest behind it from the force on her neck. The man screamed at her side. Something hot was running down her front, from the pressure on her neck. Her eyes moved down, her lips formed soundless pleas for help as she saw the silver shaft of an arrow sticking out from her neck. Her eyes rolled back, the world went black and she was granted freedom from her addiction and her profession by sleep eternal.

* * *

She was early; she had known she would be when she set off. But she had not expected him to be early as well. If anything she thought he would be fashionably late. And when he had arrived she had had to fight not to laugh. She had never seen anyone who looked so perfectly casual in her life. It was so obvious that he had spent at least two hours getting dressed that only another man would not notice. In a strange way the fact that he had been nervous enough to spend so long on his appearance was reassuring to her.

Then Jareth had had the cheek to pay for her cup of coffee. They had argued about it, Sarah had been adamant that she could pay for her own very easily, he had been adamant that it was good manners for him to purchase a business associate a drink when they had come at his invitation, Sarah had glared at him, then her resolve crumbled the second he peered over his glasses at her and she had moodily conceded defeat.

_So much for "you have no power over me"_, she thought glumly as she sat on the seat facing away from the counter, closest to the spotless window in the cosy and ridiculously priced coffee house. Her mind drifted as she stared out of the window, watching all the passers by hurry past, so wrapped up in their lives that they did not even notice the homeless man on the other side of the street. All he had left was his dignity, she could easily tell, especially since she had tried to give him some money and he flatly refused to accept it without giving her something to trade for it. He had smiled and told her that she was too kind for her own good when she said all he had to do was give her a joke she could tell her friends. He had still told her one, and then refused to accept more than five dollars when she offered him ten. He said that it was an old joke and not even worth the five she was giving him, but he did not want to burden her conscience. She did not know what he had been happier about. The money or the fact that he had been treat like a person for a few minutes.

She started at the noise of the cup being set down in front of her and looked up to see Jareth smiling warmly at her. He set down his own cup and took the seat opposite her, shaking his head as he did so. The smell of the coffee was almost overpowering, turns out that they both liked it strong and black. "Do you daydream often?" he asked teasingly.

"When ever I get the chance. It's when all my best ideas come to me." His smile deepened at her reply and he leaned back in his chair, even that simple arrogance filled yet relaxed movement accentuated the regal part of his nature and it was obvious that he was quite far up the social ladder and very used to being so. But only she knew he was a King.

His eyes kept flicking towards the manuscript she had brought with her and she could practically feel the heat of the curiosity burning in him. "So what is it about?" he asked, faking calm interest. She gave him a cold smile, hoping it looked friendly.

"You'll have to wait and see." He frowned, showing just how used to getting his own way he was.

"Won't you tell me anything about it?" She raised her eyebrows at him. He obviously had no idea how strange it was to hear a King whine like a child, if only he would pout, it would make her day.

"Rose vines and wolves," she said cryptically. What she did not say was that the main plot for the book had come from a dream she had been having for years, since she had been to the Labyrinth actually. Now he raised an eyebrow of his own and looked at her in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" She smirked at him.

"You'll see. Just be patient." His shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Women." He grumbled in complaint.

* * *

Jareth had never seen her look so beautiful. True she wasn't particularly dressed up, but she was going to work soon so had expected her to wear something practical. All she was wearing was a pair of dark blue bell bottom jeans and a plain black tee-shirt. It would have looked bland on any other woman, but on Sara it looked better than the ball gown she had worn for him. And he wasn't sure why, but her eyes seemed to be much more vivid, a sharper shade of greyish green than they had appeared before. All in all, she was gorgeous. She was even attracting the sly glances of the other men in the coffee house, much Jareth's increasing jealousy.

But what was really eating away at him was the manuscript she had oh so casually laid down between them. If her physical form was stunning to him, it was nothing when compared to the beauty he had always found in her mind. Even as he leaned back in her chair, sulkily watching her smirk at him he wished that he could read it, just to see the kind of thing that went on in her imaginative mind.

As they sank further into friendly conversation, Jareth realised more and more that the blossoming rose before him had not been exaggerating when she had told him that she was not very good at talking to people. She seemed comfortable enough with him, she just did not seem to be able to come up with much to say to him. It was unnerving, but he was sure she would over come it with practice. Though he still found her behaviour strange. He remembered her as a mouthy young woman who always had something to say, not to mention she was a writer and they were normally damn near impossible to shut up.

Eventually her eyes darted to her watch and she began to stand. "I really have to go," she mumbled quietly. Jareth nodded, hoping she would say a little more, and he was rewarded by the soft sound of her voice. "Thanks for the coffee; I've really enjoyed talking with you."

"My pleasure I assure you. I'll call you when I've come to a decision about the book."

"Oh, I don't have a phone." She said hurriedly. "But my address is on the inside cover. If you can't get there I'll check into the store about once a week. Is that okay?" She sounded as if she was unsure of herself, but then she had right the way through the conversation.

"Yes, that's absolutely fine. I would walk you work, but I promised to meet my sister at the store soon."

"No, that's okay."

He reached out for her hand and she took it coyly, obviously shy when it came to any form human contact, though he wasn't really human, Sarah did not know that. She blushed and looked away as Jareth released her hand. "I hope you enjoy the book."

"I intend to, and I'll let you know."

After another cold but shy smile she left with a quiet "I'll see you later then."

And she would see him later, as soon as he had finished reading the book she had written. It struck him suddenly that he did not even know the title. So finally he picked up the manuscript, and nearly dropped it when he saw the clear but small type on the other wise empty cover.

"The War of the Wings".

* * *

A/N Please review 


	3. A Writers Mind

Chapter Three: A Writers Mind

Paling rapidly, Jareth drained the remains of his coffee, then with a shaking hand he firmly snatched up the manuscript and hurriedly strode from the coffee house, nearly forgetting to set down the cup. It was a coincidence. It had to be. He would read it and there would be some sort of predictably biblical war between Angels and the Devil.

_There's just one problem with that theory,_ he thought nervously as her ran his free, also shaking hand through his hair. _Sarah is far too imaginative to be predictable._

He shook his head fiercely as he walked. Images of mangled corpses and blood drenched wings dancing before his eyes. Pulling one of his twin blades from a combatants' back. Watching the arrows fly and preying they would not burry themselves in a friends flesh.

He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut. Hoping in vain that it would stop the ghosts of a long gone past from forcing themselves upon him. He felt the familiar burning sting at the back of his eyes. No! Not here! Not here! Jareth forced his breathing to slow to deep shuddering breaths. He would not let it happen. It had not happened since the war and he was NOT going to let it happen now.

Suddenly he felt something else since he had not since the war. It felt like a cool calming blanket lay itself over his mind as his sister joined them for the first time in well over a millennium, and he revelled in it. He felt her words, rather than heard them, but he knew they were soft and worried. _Jareth, are you okay? I thought you were going to-_

_I was,_ he cut in, he could not bear to be reminded of what was about to happen any more than he already had been. _I'll be fine as long as you stay with me. It wasn't as bad as it normally is._

_I'll keep contact. What happened?_

_Just a reminder of things I would far rather forget, a reminder that was far too strong._ There was a long pause before Celeste replied, and Jareth opened his eyes, only to find that everything was slightly blurred through his glasses. That was not a good sign, it meant. . . He did not even think about what it meant.

_You should hurry back; your vision improving in the Upperground isn't good._

_Well ahead of you. _

And he was, with his sister still a soothing presence he set off at an alarming pace, only to be stopped by a violent shudder running through him and the feel of something hot running down the front of his neck. _What the-_

_Jareth, _her voice was a heart breaking sob as she put the meaning in his mind and the image of a young woman, scantily dressed and slumped forward with a very familiar arrow protruding from her throat crept in by accident.

_Celeste!_

_Hurry. . ._

He took off at a run, the old instinct to protect his sister returning full force. Weaving through the blurry crowds, forgetting his own problem and as he did his vision worsened enough for his glasses to once again be useful. He had to get to Celeste. Something wasn't right. He could feel the slightest crackle of magic and he should not be able to. This world should be as dry of magic as a desert was of water. He skidded and span on his heel to run down an alley way. It was blessedly empty, and seeing this he stopped with the bone jarring precision of a warrior.

Frowning, Jareth took off his glasses and folded them up. _Where are you Celeste? _He asked hurriedly, the anxiety in him showing plainly to his sister.

_Here,_ she answered weekly, flashing a picture of his throne room in his minds eye.

The Goblin King took a deep breath and felt for the barrier keeping him from his sister. Something was wrong with it. It was trembling, almost as much he had been. But worst of all, it was flexible. Rather than being the solid wall it had always been, it was bending as he gently pushed against it, showing where he needed to be in the Underground. What had done this? The Sylphs' magic could not be failing. It was eternal and powerful, near impossible to defeat.

Pushing these worries to the back of his mind, the world warped around him. The narrow alley spread and became a wide sandstone floor, windows opened in the dark walls as the light stone spread like oil on water. His horseshoe shaped throne blossomed up from the ground and the centre floor sank down to form the different levels. Finally the form of his sister, kneeling and exhausted on the bottom tier shimmered into view, along with the fox knight Didymus trying to help her and the hiding form of Hoggle skulking out of his sisters' view, watching her with worry. Trying to suppress his fear at how unusually easy it was to return to his world, he focused on his sister.

"Jareth?" She murmured weakly. Dropping his glasses and Sarah's' manuscript, he rushed to her side and draped his arm around her shoulder, hoping it would comfort away the distress he could feel pouring from her.

"I'm here Little Star. What's happening? Are you okay?" A pathetic half smile touched her lips briefly at the use of her long unused nickname, but vanished all too soon.

"I'm okay Flash Blade. But the girl." Her voice cracked, death always hit Celeste the hardest of all the people he knew. She saw it as a waste of potential and found it extremely difficult to kill, even if her own life was in danger.

"What about her?" He asked softly, not even bothering to dismiss his subjects.

"She . . . She was young. Her parents had been murdered and she was a drug addict, and a prostitute. Oh Crystal Moon. She was so young. The arrow? Did you See it? Jareth? Did you recognise it?" He nodded grimly.

"Five black feathers and a silver shaft. I know those arrows. I've helped pull enough of them out."

"She was . . . the last of her line. Her death is what has changed the barrier. She was a descendant of the Sylph King. There aren't many left. If they all die, then the so does the barrier. The war will start again. And this time we have no Sylph to hide behind. It'll be the last world standing."

"Can you See the other descendants?" He asked softly, oblivious to the determined look slowly beginning to grace Hoggle's face.

"No, that's why I came to see you today. Something is blocking my Sight. I can't See the people I'm supposed to be watching over and protecting. Because of me, that girl died. And because of me, others are going to die. Every time I Look into the future all I See are wings and death and blood. Something is happening Jareth. And it's something we can't stop."

* * *

Frowning, Hoggle slowly climbed down from the window ledge outside the throne room. Just like the Sylph had said, the Aboveground denizens were on their way back to the two sister realms of the ground. He thought he had felt a tremor in the magic, but in this form his senses were dulled and it was hard to tell. But he had noticed one thing; he could sense his true body, deep in slumber and hidden from him, somewhere difficult to get to. He couldn't even tell what Kingdom it was in.

He walked slowly, his eyes drifting to half closed as he did, the remnants of his old Elvin senses trying in vain to find their true vessel. He refused to soil Celeste's presence until he had a body fit for her eyes to fall upon. Where was it? He could feel it as surely as he could feel the pathetic fake flesh he inhabited now. Words of the long dead language he had thought lost to him quietly flooded from his lips, refining his meagre sense of magic.

More than his broken pride, more than threat of renewed war looming over him, more than the longing to have Celeste back in his arms, more even than the simple wish to be whole again, he wanted his body back so that he could carry out his duty. He was meant to protect the Seer, to protect those she could not let die for fear of a ruined future. And that was a task for an Elvin Knight, not a repulsive little scab of a dwarf whose body was simply magically animated stone.

Any who saw him might have noticed how his limp had lessened, or how his posture had become stronger, or even how he seemed to now have a purpose after so long of wandering aimlessly. Though in all honesty they were more likely to notice the fact that his eyes were glowing the blue of Elvin magic. Had he not been so angry at himself for failing, he would have marvelled at being able to tap into his old magic.

Suddenly the light dimmed and the dwarf let out a cry of frustration. It was no use. He could not sense its place. But at least he knew his body was still in one piece. That much he could tell. It was in one piece and full working order, simply frozen and out of his reach. Though he might be able to sense its location soon, if what he had heard was true. As much as he wanted his body back, he did not want any descendants of the Sylph to die for that to happen.

Still, he had no doubt that that was exactly what would happen. Especially with his post left vacant as there was no way for Celeste to send a protector. And not only that, she could no longer See those she was supposed to protect.

A war truly was inevitable.

* * *

Her pen glided over the page. She was lost to the lure of writing. It was all there was for her. There was no chill brushing against her skin unless it brushed against that of her pawns. No, pawn was not the word. For though she had created them, these people, these characters were just as likely to come up with their own adventures, their own miss fortunes as Sarah was to lead them down the road to ruin with her own hand.

She could feel the crunch of gravel on the unkempt path as surely as if it were beneath her own feet. The fierce sun beat down on her back even though she was sat at her desk in her small and quite pathetic flat.

But it was in this flat that unquestionable brilliance was achieved. All who read her work would agree that it was far superior to any other book they had ever come across, but they would always point out her one flaw. The complete lack of joy. There was never a happily ever after in Sarah's world. Never a joyous occasion that was not ruined by misfortune. Yet when reading her work the reader always expected there to be. They always waited for the glimmer of joy, the glimmer of joy that never came. Only misery upon misery found its' way on to the page. And Sarah was its' slave. She was powerless to resist the pull of sorrow in the worlds that she created within the pages.

She noticed nothing around her. Someone could have broken into her flat and pilfered everything but the desk she was writing at, the paper and the pen in her hand and she would only notice when her internal clock told her she needed food or something else. Even then she tended to ignore such trivial matters as bodily functions until she had no real choice but to obey her protesting body.

The results of her toils where unmistakably disturbing. But she had no idea just how disturbing Jareth was finding them.

* * *

Leaving the manuscript on his desk, Jareth stumbled to his feet and fell against the wall. He was trembling as the ghost of the past assaulted him. Leaning heavily on his forearm he tried to slow his erratically beating heart and steady his haggard breath. Blood soaked battle fields flirted in and out of his vision. If he had thought that seeing the title of Sarah's work had been bad, it was nothing compared to relieving the war with the threat of it starting again looming over him.

Cautiously, as though afraid it would attack him, the Goblin King peered over his shoulder to the open manuscript. How had she known? It was impossible for her to have knowledge of that time. It was even written from his perspective. Had she simply thought that his appearance had inspired her character? Or had she not even noticed the similarities?

As if that was not bad enough, the prologue had been the last scene of abuse he had received from his mother at the age of seven. It had all but driven him insane to relive that long since buried memory. To see his adoptive father in something other than a lifeless painting tore his cold heart to shreds. To hear himself hurl abuse at the old King of his domain had been even worse. Then the perfect description of his unfortunate condition had set it off for real as he lived through it.

He now fought against it, clumsily reaching for his sisters' mind as he trembled and his vision began to blur, stinging his eyes with the precision of a needle in his own study. To lay ghosts to rest, he had to read it. He had promised Sarah he would, but more that that he felt he owed it to his fallen friends and father. To all the heroes of war who ended their own potentially eternal life mere decades after the conflict came to an end. Unable to adjust to peace when they had lost so many friends and family members.

Slowly his vision began to sharpen and the burn left the back of his eyes. Worn out from his struggle, the King slumped with his head resting against his forearm in a most un-regal fashion. His breath was heavy but slow and his heart was steadily returning to its' regular beat. "Rose vines and wolves," he murmured softly. Searching his memory for their significance. His eyes drifted closed as he reached for calm and understanding. Then they sharply snapped open in shock as he remembered. Just another detail that no mortal should know. In fact there were few _im_mortals who knew. They were the royal emblems of the Sylph, much like the barn owl and crystals were his own.

With a deep steadying breath he stood properly and warily returned to his desk. He had to finish reading the book, no matter the toll on his nerves and his temper. This was beyond the simple wooing of a woman he loved. This was a memorial to the past of all three worlds and their dead who should not have died at that time.

He struggled through chapter after chapter. Forcing down any overwhelming emotion. He could feel his sister trying to aid him in his fight against his condition as he read. Sarah was a superb author. There was no doubt about that simple fact. He only wished that she had given him another piece of her work that he could admire rather than a manuscript he wanted to cringe away from.

It was all there. The forming of his brutal squadron, the revealing of his condition during one of his fathers loathsome feasts, all of it. In perfect detail and far sharper than his memory could have ever been. Ribbons' irritating accent was flawlessly written, Brocks' kind and patient attitude was faultless and every slash of garish colour gracing Alfred's waist coat were exactly right. She even went as far as to describe the sensation of his phantom wings with impossible accuracy.

At chapter seven he stopped, unable to read anymore for the time being. He slid a book mark in to place at the right page and leaned back in his wooden chair, still trembling from such a clear image of the past being presented to him. It had been worse than viewing a film of what had happened, as a film he could have mindlessly watched. But with a book his mind filled in the correct detail, making it seem all the more real to him. All the more graphic. He could feel every breeze as he had centuries ago. Every wound, whether physical or emotional had felt new and fresh yet again, their sting had not been lost with time.

Pulling an arrow from Ribbons' shoulder, teasing about how she was supposedly the fastest flitter in the Underground, had been one of the worst. Having Seen an arrow identical to it protruding from the throat of a descendant of the Sylph King that day. Though how one of that noble lineage had ended as an underage prostitute he could not fathom.

That was when his mind started to work against him. Just how had Sarah been able to write, with such vivid and accurate detail, about something that had happened well over a millennium ago? The first thing that he thought of was that perhaps in a bid to draw the young woman to him after she had left, his Labyrinth had given her some form of subconscious layer of his memories. But he discarded that theory quickly. As wilful as his domain was, it would not disobey him quite so grievously. True his Labyrinth had changed her slightly. But not to that extent.

He allowed his eyes to close as his mind wandered from theory to theory. Then a small rebellious thought snuck into his musings. The Sylph were connected to everything. They remembered what would be forgotten. From there he noticed dully that Sarah was the last of her line. Her family killed in a car crash. His eyes snapped open yet again as the realisation struck him and refused to let go. He knew how she remembered his past. His Labyrinth had woken a side of her that had been dormant for generations.

Sarah was a descendant of the Sylph King.

* * *

A/N Please review, tell me what you think. 


	4. Dwarf to Elvin With A Little Help From H

Chapter Four: Dwarf to Elvin With A Little Help From His Friend

"You summoned me Sire?" asked the Dwarf, Hoggle. But Jareth was not going to be calling him the ridiculous name anymore. He had noticed how his bearing had changed. His limp had all but disappeared and his head was held up high. And now it was time for an almost cruel reawakening.

"Yes I did," he answered, leaning back on the chair behind his desk in the book lined study, Sarah's manuscript lying sinisterly closed before him. It was then he said the most brutal thing he had ever uttered in his lifetime. "Auranar." The Dwarf flinched, but continued to stare him in the eye, a trace of the Elvin he once was defiantly clinging to his stature.

"It 'as been a while since I've 'eard that name, yer Majesty." Jareth raised an eyebrow. Remembering the blue glow of magic he had seen about the diminished knight the day before. "An' I still say I don' deserve to bear it yet."

The Goblin King smiled. "You are needed in your calling."

"I have no calling." The smile stopped, though inwardly Jareth was thrilled. It had been far too long since he had heard the Dwarf speak with authority in his tone; he could almost hear his old friend again. So, pretending that he had not heard Auranar, the King continued.

"I know, or at least highly suspect, who one of the Sylphs descendants is, and I believe it is someone you would be very interested in protecting." The Dwarf glowered at him, something that he had not had the gall to do in centuries, and it was a battle for Jareth not to grin at the display. "I'll be performing a spell on her tonight as she sleeps that will alert me should one of," his lip curled at what he was about to say, "my kind," he growled out, "step within three miles of her with the intention to harm her, but other than that I can do nothing. Bringing her to the Underground would only anger the other Kingdoms, well, those who have a ruler that was not here at the time of the war. So it falls to you to attempt to protect her from menial things."

"I doubt I could protect meself, never mind someone else."

"It's Sarah." Silence rang through the room. Even the soft crackling of the fire in the mantle seemed to be smothered by the Kings statement.

He watched the blue eyes of Auranar carefully as they hardened with an emotion that the King had missed in the dwarf. Cold determination. All self preservation left him; it was if Jareth had told the Elvin that Celeste was in danger long ago. But there was something else beneath that steely resolve, and it was as unwanted as a cancer. Self doubt. Jareth could practically hear the workings of his mind, asking just what a pathetic broken knight could do to stave away danger of any kind. "What makes you think it's the little lady?" He asked, suspicion as well as despair ringing in his voice. Jareth waved away the question for the time being, though he would eventually get around to answering it.

"First I want to know what she has told you of the car crash that killed her family."

The Elvin Dwarf frowned deeply before speaking. "She was in the car with them. Then a truck crashed into the side and she was somehow on the road with nothing more than a scratch. Rose vines . . . were . . . in . . . her . . . seat." Jareths' heart sank as heard Auranar speak with slowly dawning dread and realisation, confirming his fears. "Sacred Forest! She has to be a Sylph!" The Goblin King nodded gravely, taking note of the Elvin saying. Yes, his old friend was returning. And it was about time he rediscovered his spine. The King nodded.

"You will start training with the Goblin army, the real Goblin army, so you will be able to fully use the pathetic body you inhabit now. Then you will give Sarah a gift. A mirror. One that will alert you when she is in danger of any kind." The Dwarfish Elvin frowned.

"A mirror like that would have teh be Elvin and small enough for her to carry round." Even his speech was again trying to reach the noble level it had once been at. "Where am I meant to get 'old of one?"

Jareth casually leaned back in his throne, revelling in the look of utter annoyance that he evoked in the Elvin. "Auranar, don't be an idiot. You excelled in crafting such mirrors and that is a skill which is never forgotten." He wasn't sure who he was helping more through this arrangement. His old friend or his future lover, but they would hopefully both thank him, though he doubted it. The Dwarf glared at him and started to protest, but Jareth didn't give him the chance. "Don't even bother attempting to turn this down. I know your ability to perform magic has returned, even if it is somewhat diminished compared to its previous pique. Creating a well disguised mirror won't require your full strength; it's more skill and patience than anything else."

He could see Auranar fighting to hold back his raging anger at the orders he had received, and he felt utterly smug for being the one to show him that he still held the fire of an Elvin in his soul. But he could understand why his old friend was becoming so angry. The mentality he once had was returning, and here was someone he viewed as a friend giving him an incredibly difficult task when at one time he had never even dreamed of giving him an order unless they were in battle situations. Not only that but he wasn't even his true King, not to mention he was taunting and provoking him. Yes, he could easily read into Auranar's anger, though Hoggle had always been somewhat of an enigma to him.

* * *

As he stormed through the castle, every Goblin and creature dodging from his path, he yanked the jewels for his waist. He had never been so infuriated in his life as a bloody Dwarf. How dare a _Goblin _King order him do anything! His repugnant form may be Dwarfish, small and insignificant, but his soul and ever increasingly, his heart, were the fiery components of a proud Elvin! Even as powerful as he was, Jareth had no right to give an Elvin such a command! Though what annoyed him more was that Goblin King or Elvin, he still had no choice but to comply, simply because he could not let Sarah come to any harm.

And not simply because his guilt would destroy him if hers was the death that allowed him to retrieve his body. He truly did not want to see her come to anymore harm. She was a friend and it pained him to know that the foul things which loomed above her world needed her to die before they could return to menace both worlds. If crafting a mirror could help save her life then so be it. He would craft a mirror.

But what to disguise it as? He pondered on this as he barged into the large jewellery crafting room. "OUT!" He yelled with such ferocity that it surprised himself. The seven or so Goblins that had been messing around scattered. Some jumped out of the windows, others edged around him and out the door. But the room was empty in less than five seconds.

The wooden workbenches were a mess of tools and sparkling bits of metal and the floor was littered with scrap. Shaking his head he set about cleaning the room. He never could work in a messy environment unless it was a battle field. His concentration always strayed away from the task at hand.

As he cleaned he pondered over his dilemma. Whatever he hid the mirror in, it would have to be something that she would never take off, and he would have to make it seem as though he would be offended if she removed it. The only problem was Sarah had never been particularly interested in jewellery that was not part of a costume. As he saw it, he had three options for creating the hidden mirror. A ring, the kind that assassin held their poisons in, a locket or a charm bracelet.

The bracelet was out almost immediately as the only ones she wore were those plastic things that were cheep and easily replaceable. The idea of the locket was the next to go. For as long as he had know her she had been adept at loosing any necklace that she draped around her neck within a week of wearing it for the first time. So that left a poison ring that she hopefully would never use to store poison. Though in all honesty if it was for Jareth he wouldn't be entirely against the idea at the moment.

As for getting her to keep it on at all times. Well, that was simple. She knew little of the Underground so he would tell her that there was a day that honoured sisters, or those seen as sisters, with jewellery that they were obliged to wear until the holiday that honoured brothers, which was four centuries away. He wouldn't be lying to her. The things about the holidays was true, he just wouldn't mention that the day to honour sisters was thirty four years away. And she was like a sister to him so he would be giving her a gift then anyway, if they both lived that long.

At last the room was tidy enough for him to work in without distraction. Swiftly, Auranar gathered the materials he would need, metals, gems and moulds. He would use the measurements he took from the Sylph Kings daughter when he had made her signet ring, and if it was the wrong size he would discreetly use magic so it fit her properly. Now all he needed to do was make the ring, which would take around half an hour, fit a tiny mirror into the compartment, which would take five minutes, then finally cast the necessary spells, which would take four hours if he was lucky, seven if he wasn't.

The ring came together easily and he used some of his own jewels to add to it's significance, but he had made the compartment smaller than he had meant to. It had been a slight mistake and it was a mistake he was thankful he had made as it made the ring look more delicate and feminine as poison rings usually did not fill either of those criteria. It would be a wonderful gift, one he would proud to present to one of Sarah's noble blood line, even though he was making it because of an order he resented receiving. Though one down side of the mistake was that it made mirror more fiddly to cut and fit, but it would be worth it in the end.

He was actually very surprised that Jareth had been right. The craft was a skill that he had been unable to forget. But what surprised him more was that he had been able to get his hands to move as Elvin hands once had with so little effort, even though they were drastically different. His Elvin hands were soft, though the palms were calloused from his craft; they were elegant with long, thin, but strong fingers that never failed to move surely. His Dwarfish hands however, were overly large but still stubby, gnarled, horrifically scarred though they had never been cut and never failed to move gracelessly. Not to mention their blotchy complexion compared to the pristine pallor of his original hands.

With a soft click the tiny mirror easily fit into place in the hinged lid of the compartment and he set the ring down on the work bench, ensuring that it was open and wouldn't fall closed.

Now for the moment of truth, the magic.

Taking a deep breath, he began to rub his loathsome hands together. As he did so his eyes once again began to glow the eerie blue of Elvin magic as they lazily half closed. The procedure he had to follow flowed back to him as easily as a sword drill had once been. It was second nature, though he had thought such a nature lost to him forever.

Suddenly there was no disgraceful body. To him there was only the ring and the magic, meagre as it was now, that flowed through him, focusing at his hands. He could almost fool himself into believing that he was whole again. He slowed his hands, letting the magic build gently and as it did he felt the familiar tingle running through his fingers, spreading through his hands as the magic became more concentrated. When the sensation, almost like a pleasurable version of pins and needles, finally spilled out into his arms, he stopped the slow rubbing of his hands. They glowed blue now, not as strongly as they once did, but it was heartening for him to see. Carefully and with painstaking steadiness, he pried them apart. Ethereal bluish green lightning bolted between his palms and finger tips, joining the two hands together, and he willed the stream of lightning, the Elvin air magic, to strike at the ring.

Now all he needed was patience.

* * *

Jareth leaned against the wall outside of the jewellery craft room, a smirk gracefully placed upon his lips as he revelled in the feel of the Elvin magic coming from within. He had missed it, he would defiantly admit to that. Elvin magic was subtle, elegant and refined. . . Unlike Goblin magic which was often sloppy, anarchy educing and heavy handed. Just like Goblins themselves. And in all fairness his own magic didn't even originally come from this realm and was mainly a sort of wierd hybrid, as mismatched as his eyes.

His magic was sharp, precise and unforgiving, yet at the same time it could be as soft as a feather, as gentle as a lover and as beautiful as a perfect crystal. It all depended on the purpose of the magic.

But his phantom wings were by far the most malevolent. They were dimensional rifts, stores for lightning and in short every negative emotion he had ever felt, so they got more powerful with time. His sisters' were the opposite. She had used them once to revive a member of their squadron, who it was escaped him now, but no doubt it would be in Sarah's manuscript.

His condition could not be described as magic. It's cause was simple. Screwed up genetics coupled with extreme emotional pressure. All it took to set it off was for certain emotions to be too strong. It had made him seem to be a petulant child during the war, then later an animal when others had discovered it.

Now the war was just another legend. A story to scare children. He had become the very thing the Undergrounds nightmares were made of, yet no one seemed to realise that it was him in the tales of sheer brutality and slaughter they heard. No one remembered the war save the few that managed to survive both the war itself and then the bizarrity of the peace that followed. As far as he knew all of his squadron still lived.

Who was he kidding? Of course they were all still alive. His sister and Auranar were the only ones that he had regular contact with, but the last he had heard, Brock had married and had children, Alfred had finally gotten his school up and running again, Echoe was still wallowing in self pity and trying to atone for not being able to save his mate, Ribbon was still serving in the army, though why he could not fathom, but he had absolutely no idea what had become of the psychotic Satyr, Vanity. She had disappeared some time ago, hopefully to get some anger management for she desperately needed it. But more than likely she was in seven different kinds of trouble, most of which caused by someone calling her a Fawn rather than a Satyr.

But that didn't help the knowledge that the efforts of his squadron and himself had become nothing more than an entertaining story to be told at festivals. When ever the war was mentioned it was simply waved away as something that had been blown out of all proportion so that it would be fit for novels. No one save a few were prepared for it and of those few people only he would be taken seriously. Unfortunately showing the other monarchs just how important this was would also show him for the monster he was. For the fair faced monster all had heard of and yet none believed had truly existed, let alone existed within him. But when the time came he would show them the Angel of their nightmares, with wings of white, not of eerie light.

But this was what happened to history that should never become myth when such a large amount of time had passed. Fourteen hundred years would have bad enough had that time passed in the Upperground. But it was by far worse when it had passed in the Underground.There a day was thirty nine hours and there were three of these days to every day in the Upperground, yet they counted the turn of the year at the same time. So it took far fewer years for things to be forgotten in the Underground. Yet at this moment he could not bring himself to care. His realm would see how serious this was when the barrier crumbled.

Above all he feared for the Upperground. They hadn't seen magic for centuries, never mind fought against it. Millions if not billions would be slaughtered. Magic had become something from a story book for them just as he had to his world. With magic gone from their world they quickly forgot it, even started to fear the small form of it which all humans could wield. True not to such a great or dramatic effect, but it would work and produce results. Yet it was feared when it was so temperamental that it would cause misery to those who deserved it without ever being called. But once it was tame towards someone it could be used easily, though not without consequences if it thought it was being used unethically.

With a sigh he walked away from the completed magic within the work room, the door to the room itself and his thoughts of things he would no doubt be reminded of when he returned to read Sarah's manuscript.

* * *

Tears rapidly ran from his pale blue eyes as he stared at the body of his son. He leaned against the glass pain separating them, choking on his sobs every time he dared to glance at the lump of bloodied dead flesh that had once been a lively and intelligent fifteen year old boy. "He was going to be a doctor," he wept as the coroner rubbed his back, trying to calm him down.

Calm him down! How the hell could any father be calm when their son had just been found dead in a bush with an arrow sticking out of his throat! Murdered! Who would want to murder a fifteen year old boy! It was senseless! Had they done this just to take the tiny amount of money he had on him! Enough for a bag of chips!

He didn't even look human any more! He looked like a slab of meat! Hadn't killing him been enough! Did they get some sort of kick out of smashing his body to bits so that even the boys own father had trouble recognising him! Oh the nurses had tried to make him look close to human, but they had failed to make him look like his son. His nose was wrong. So were his cheek bones. It was all wrong.

He should be at home complaining about not being able to get past one of the bosses on his Super Nintendo, not lying dead on a steal tray in the mortuary. It just wasn't fair.

A flash of spinning silver smashed the glass. He span around to defend himself against whoever had thrown it. Where the hell had it come from! His eyes darted around before finally landing on the coroner.

"HOLY SHIT!" Blood was rapidly spilling out onto the once sterile tiles from the mans neck as his body lay slumped on the floor. The fathers stomach heaved as he spotted the guys head on the other side of the room, eyes staring vacantly at him.

* * *

A/N I've been nice enough to write it, so please be nice enough to review it, or I will get very bitchy very soon. (Hope you enjoyed it and thank you to anyone who has reviewed). 


	5. Whole Again

Chapter Five: Whole Again

The barrier warped. Jareth grabbed at his throat, coughing violently as he stumbled and hit against the wall. The world seemed to stretch this way and that all around him. The floor didn't seem to stay level as vertigo took a heavy hold of him. Tilting the world far too harshly. Spinning it to force him to his knees. And it worked.

He crashed down, slamming his knees on the hard stone floor. But he could hardly feel it through the shock that sliced around in his neck. His vision blurred, but not because of his condition. He could see part of the Upperground super imposed over his own surroundings. Crystal Moon, what the hell had happened! Then predictably came the voice of reason.

_Another of the Sylph line. _She whispered to him, her voice filled with sorrow. _Decapitated by a flash blade._ Jareth squeezed his eyes shut. A flash blade. A sliver razored disk that was excellent for quickly cutting down an enemy at mid range, when you're out of swords reach and an arrow would be to slow. It was one of his favoured weapons. So much so that he had gained the weapons name as his title.

_Do you know how many are left?_ He focused on the barrier. Then, with great effort, he pulled his realm to one side and pushed the Upperground to the other. He was used to doing this, but again it was far too easy.

_I'm afraid not, but judging from the weakness the barrier is showing, it can't be more than five, though three is probably more accurate. _

The king squeezed his eyes shut. So few from such a noble line? How had so many families been destroyed without them even noticing hat was happening? Not so long ago, perhaps a century or two, Sylph blood had been easy to find in any country. There had been almost one thousand lines stemming from the Sylph King. Perhaps the two World Wars of the Upperground had eased the work for the murdering Aboveground denizen that now plagued them.

_Sarah's a descendant of the Sylph King, _he sent to his sister. _But no doubt she'll be left till last._

_How do you know this? _Jareth could easily feel Celeste's shock at his statement.

_She's the last of her line. Her family died in a car crash and only she survived because my Labyrinth awakened the magic within her. She'll be the most powerful one left so the Hunter won't want take any chances with her._

_The Hunter? An appropriate label for this monster, though one far too glorifying._ Then after a pause she whispered to him again. _I think you should step up your courting of this mortal yet immortal girl. The more time she spends in your presence the better. I doubt the Hunter would even attempt to attack her with you at her side._

_I'm casting a spell on her when she sleeps next so that I will be alerted if one sharing our heritage nears her with the intention to harm her._

_Hmm. A good plan, but do you think we should rekindle the squad and bring this issue to the attention of the other kingdoms? _Her question was unsure. She knew hat the other monarchs would say to such a claim, even though they could not help but feel what was happening to the barrier. He would have to convince them, and in doing so become what he once was.

_We should defiantly bring my squadron back into action, but it will take a more severe rip in the barrier to make the pathetic young rulers of the other Kingdoms to see sense._ Silently she agreed.

* * *

Magic flooded the Elvin Dwarfs senses. The rush of it made his head spin in the most wonderful way possible. He could feel the life in everything. Pulsing and strong. Vibrant yet subtle. And not just near him. Everywhere! Every creature! Every Kingdom! Every stronghold! Of it was so good to feel again. Then he felt the very thing he had spent fourteen centuries searching for. 

His body.

Right under his nose. Here in the Goblin Kingdom. Well hidden in the place that he never would have gone without being forced to. An underground cavern. About twelve miles to the north west of here he stood now. It was alive, it was healthy, it was so much more powerful than the pathetic vessel he inhabited now. There was no decay of its flesh, no weakening of its magic, the hair and nails hadn't even grown. But there was one difference. One very useful difference.

It had gotten stronger. As though he had been honing his magic all this time. But even if he had been that would never have explained such a dramatic increase in strength. There were crystals all around it. He could not quite label them, but they must have had some hand in this dramatic swell in his body's magic.

Breathing slowly he roamed the area with his newly returned Elvin senses. Steep and uneven land. Rocky and difficult to navigate. At least for this body. He would need help. But who could he ask to do this with him? Certainly not Jareth. He did not want that particular King to know until he returned to the Labyrinth whole again. Definitely not Celeste. She had not even seen him in this hideous form. He ruled out Ludo and Sir Didymus straight away. He would someone who could take this seriously and those two were still children by his standard. There was no way of contacting any of the others from the long disbanded squadron he had been a member of. So that left only one choice. Sarah.

Asking for her help was not a bad idea at all. She was used to adventure and loved the Underground. He could easily rely on her assistance and she would revel in the opportunity to get away from her life, if only for a few hours. Not only that but he would be able to give her the ring he had made for her and being in the Underground was infinitely safer than being in the Upperground. It was far more difficult to break through into this realm than into its sister. It was also quite suicidal for one of the Aboveground denizens to come into a realm where Jareth would easily be able to pick them out. Not to mention that the beast who was hunting those of her ilk would not be looking for her in the Underground.

There was just one problem. Though he would be able to bring her into the Underground quite easily, he would need Jareth's permission before he even attempted to do so or he would automatically be killed because he did not have the monarch of the Kingdoms permission. That had been the law of the Underground since the end of the war.

So, with a heavy sigh Auranar left the jewellery crafting room and set off in search of Jareth. It did not take him long to find the King. He was sat on the floor in a corridor not far from where he had been working, leaning against the wall rubbing his neck. It was not a particularly kingly position; then again his expression of an irritating but bearable pain wasn't very regal either.

"Jareth?" The Goblin King looked at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly showing annoyance at something, probably him. But what he had done he could not fathom. Perhaps it was just a 'pick on the Dwarf thing' day.

"When did I give you permission to address me in such a familiar manner?" Now it was the Elvin Dwarves turn to raise his eyebrow. Only his gesture was offered in confusion. "You called me Jareth," clarified the King. Ah, that would explain his annoyance. Jareth loathed to think that the pathetic creature before him had once been his proud friend. Well, if all went well he would have his friend back by the end of the day.

"My apologies yer Majesty." Despite the polite and respectful words, there was no trace of respect in his voice. Strangely enough Jareth saw this as reason to smirk, rather than reprimand him.

"What is it?"

"I've come to ask for yer permission to bring the little lady into your realm for half a day or so."

Jareth looked to the Elvin Dwarf in both interest and slight confusion. "Oh really? Whatever for?" he asked in an overly smarmy and arrogant voice.

"I thought it might cheer her up a bit to see more of the Underground than your Labyrinth. She's always been interested in it. Not t' mention she'll be safer here than in her own realm since any of the vermin from the Aboveground would have t' be either down righ' daft or completely mad to enter a realm where you have power." The Goblin King raised a suspicious eyebrow then sighed noncommittally.

"For some reason I get the feeling you have an ulterior motive behind this, but I've got far too much to worry about to care at the moment. Very well. I grant your request. She may stay for as long as she wishes." It was a mammoth task not to jump for glee, whether or not this body would allow it.

"Thank you, yer Majesty," he replied, battling down a ridiculously large grin before turning away and leaving.

What he did not see was a rather large smirk elegantly place itself upon the lips of the King he left behind.

* * *

Sarah had never been so thankful for a day off in her life. And for the first time in years she did not feel like writing. She was restless. She wanted to be doing something to take her mind off what Jareth might think of her Manuscript. She had just finished getting dressed in a pair of very practical dark jeans and a simple navy button up shirt, with the top few buttons left undone. There was no jewellery, no makeup nor anything else that could be considered decoration. 

She was just about to leave her rather cosy (the nice way of saying cramped) apartment to try and find some sort of physical activity to occupy her time hen she heard a familiar voice with an unfamiliar edge to it. "Sarah? Sarah are yeh there?"

"Yep," she called back as she made her way from her door to the mirror above her desk. "Hi Hoggle." The Dwarf smiled at her, but she could not help feel that there was something different about him. Something confident and perhaps stronger. Perhaps she was just imaging it.

"Do yeh have work today?" he asked brightly. Far too brightly for him. She shook her head in reply.

"Do you wanna come and help me find something in the Underground? It'll give yeh a chance to explore. And Jareth said he'll leave us be while you're here." She frowned. Of course she would want to go, but why did something feel so . . . off about the way he was acting and speaking? "Oh! And I have a gift for you."

"Hoggle," she sighed in exasperation. "You didn't need to do that. Of course I'll come and help."

His smile widened to an almost impossible size at her agreement and she could not help but smile back, even though she knew that her smile would fall short of his. "Okay, just put your hand on the mirror an' I'll do the rest." With a slight nod she complied and spread her finger against the reflective glass. She felt an odd tingling rush through her body, making her shiver at the foreign feeling. It wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite actually. It was just unusual.

Slowly she felt and watched her hand start to sink through the mirror as though it was water, but without the wet part. She felt a tug on her arm as she watched the mirror ripple like a pebble slashing into a still pond. The without warning she found herself being yanked through the glass roughly. With a startled cry she was pulled off the ground and hurtling through air. Then she banged her knees as she hit the dusty ground of the Underground.

Slightly dazed and defiantly confused she stumbled to her feet to take in her surroundings. "Err, sorry 'bout that Sarah. I'm not used to bring people into this realm."

"That's okay," mumbled the writer as she gazed around in awe. It was just as beautiful as she remembered it being. She was stood by a small and oddly clear pond. The ground she was standing on was a neat pathway covered in fine yellowish dust that somehow stayed on the path instead of being blown about. To her right there was the slow transaction from lush grassland to thick and enchanting forest and to her left the grasslands continued with the thicket that edged the Labyrinth and the magnificent maze itself in the distance. The sky was a gorgeous pale blue with the oddest hint of purple to it that for some reason suggested the end of dawn rather than the start of dusk. And the Sun. It was easy and bizarre to gaze at. For a start it was silver and trimmed with fiery crimson. It was one of the strangest but most alluring things she had ever seen as it sat low in the morning sky.

The oddest sensation of home seemed to well within her and she found herself smiling a rare true smile. Any who looked at her would have easily confused her for some obscure member of a royal family somewhere, such was the ease with which she set herself into her surroundings. Not only that but she could feel something that she had not felt on her other visit to this wondrous world. It was as though she was a part of all the things around her and it made her feel so very alive.

Still looking to the Sun she let out a sigh of contentment. This was where she belonged, no matter where she was born, no matter that she would never be able to stay in this dazzling place. She still belonged.

"It's a different colour in each Kingdom, the Sun. You can tell where you are in the Underground because of that." Explained Hoggle, obviously taking note of her interest.

"Is it this beautiful in the other Kingdoms?" She asked in awe.

"That depends on your opinions. I think it's more beautiful in the Elvin Kingdom than anywhere else. But others think that the dark Sun of the Vampire Kingdom looks better." She looked to him and saw the smile her wore at her almost child like amazement.

She smiled back, blushing. It was like being a child again, getting to know the world for the first time. Then she frowned as the Dwarf started to rummage around in his pockets. "Here in the Underground there are allsorts of holidays. There is one to honour sisters." He paused as another smile lit up his face and he pulled something out of his pocket, keeping it hidden in his hand. Sarah watched him with great interest as he went on explaining. "During that holiday it's customary for the brother, or the other sister, to give their sister a piece of jewellery to wear at all times until the day that honours brothers comes around. And because you're like sister to me, I gots yeh this, well. I made yeh this." And with those words he opened his hand and held it to her.

Her eyes widened in utter amazement. In his palm was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It was made of an unusual dark blue metal she had never seen before that shimmered like a cut crystal in the light. It feminine and delicate despite being quite large and it had a heavy ebony gem set into it for decoration with a discrete hinge on one side. "Hoggle! I can't accept this! It's far too extravagant! It must have taken you ages to make it!"

"It did, but I made it for you, and if yeh don't take it and wear it all the time like tradition says I'll get offended." She could feel her eyes filling up at the sentiment but fought not to cry. Sometimes, well, a lot of the time it was hard for her to remember that someone still cared about her. But she doubted that she would forget this in a hurry.

With an exasperated sigh she shook her head. "Okay. I accept it. But it really wasn't necessary for you to go through all of this trouble just for me." The Dwarf made a show of rolling his eyes at the young woman.

"Nonsense," he insisted as he gestured for her hand. She held out her right hand to him and he slid the ring onto her index finger. It was a perfect fit. "I enjoyed making it for yeh and I wanted it to be special since yeh mortal and this holiday only comes around once every two hundred years.

Finally they set off in search of whatever Hoggle was looking for. They took there time on the journey so that Sarah could marvel at what she saw and as they travelled Hoggle told her as much as he could about the Underground. About its different Kingdom, its traditions and its amazing landscape. He lingered on the Elvin Kingdom for longer than the rest and the note of nostalgia in his voice easily told her that it had been his home once and that it had been his favourite home. He explained the time difference between the Upper and Underground and about the magical barrier that separated the worlds. And he seemed to delight in telling her of the myths and legends of the places he had visited, most of which contained creatures far more impressive and enchanting than Dragons and Centaurs. Yet when she pointed this out Hoggle simply laughed and said the Centaur Kingdom was lovely in winter and the Dragon Kingdom was impressive and very intimidating in a terrifying way, though the Dragons themselves are lovely people and would gladly give anyone a ride through the air as long as they had the funds for it.

They stopped at what Hoggle assured her was midday and he surprised her by getting a picnic ready supposedly out of no where. When she asked him how he had managed that he simply winked at her and said "Magic". The food was one of the few things she could class as normal through out the day, though it did taste considerable better than what she would have expected had she been in the Upperground. The conversation lulled while they ate and Sarah used the opportunity to better take in her surroundings.

They were now sat at the base of a weird sort of rock pile with moss and grass sprouting across and between the large pieces of rubble. Though it should not be considered beautiful, that was the only word she could think of to describe it. Perhaps it was the way the golden sunlight, somehow formed by a silver Sun, poured over the odd formation, or maybe it was because the sight was so new to her eyes. But it was truly beautiful to her. She spotted a cave near the top of the rocks and had the feeling that they were heading there. It would explain why Hoggle needed help. Some of the rocks were larger than he was.

"I guess that's where we're going?" Hoggle looked up and smiled slightly.

"See why I need yeh help?" She giggled quietly and nodded before standing up.

"What are you looking for anyway?"

"Something of great importance and value to me. It's taken me fourteen centuries to pinpoint its location, it's one of the reasons I've travelled so much." Sarah froze mid stretch. That had been Hoggle's voice, but it certainly had not been his accent or his mannerisms. She looked to him with a raised eyebrow, but he didn't seem to have noticed anything wrong so she simply shrugged it off and put down to her imagination.

"Why has it taken so long for you to find it?"

"When it was stolen it was very well hidden. I was starting to think that it was in the Upperground." There it was again. The lack of Hoggle like attributes. That was going to drive her crazy if it kept up. "Shall we set off? The climb will take a while."

"Err. Yeh, okay." After her next blink the picnic had disappeared. She raised a questioning eyebrow but her only answer was for Hoggle to whistle and look away innocently.

There climb began in earnest with Sarah climbing on top of the first large rock then holding out her hand to help Hoggle up with her, and that was how the climb progressed. It was hard and tiring work that left little of their breath left for talking so they struggled on in silence unless they were advising each other of foot holds. The closer they got to the caves opening the more determined Hoggle seemed to get. He had a fiery and unwavering gleam to his eye that suggested he would find a way up himself if Sarah became too tired or even got injured. It was both unsettling and heartening to see in the often somewhat cowardly and unsure Dwarf.

It took hours to reach the top and because of her supportive role in their climb Sarah was overly exhausted and readily collapsed on the uneven and immensely uncomfortable level in front of the caves entrance. Her breath heavy and rapid, forcing her chest to heave and her muscles burned from the prolonged use. Hoggle seemed almost as fatigued as she felt but he was staring hungrily into the cave.

The mouth of it was a foot or two higher than Sarah was and that seemed to be the average height in the caverns beyond from what she could see. The sandstone walls glittered in the light reflecting just enough of it back to dimly light the whole cave. She could see that it twisted to the left a few yards in so she had no clue what lay beyond that bend.

"It's a single tunnel. There aren't any intersecting it. I'm going ahead. Catch up when you've got you're breath back." She nodded feebly at the Dwarf and he smiled at her before disappearing into the tunnel, leaving her to try and recover on the rocky ground. She was so very tired. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up in a week. Her eyelids were so very heavy. A quick nap wouldn't hurt would it? Hoggle had told her that there wasn't anything dangerous in this part of the Kingdom. Her eyes slowly began to drift closed, following the flow of weariness, and she didn't bother to fight against it.

We she opened her eyes she was very surprised to see that it was dark. The moonlight was soft and clear as it bathed the world in silver light, adding a striking but gentle glow to everything. With a smile she searched the sky. Hoggle had told her that their was crystal moon that was always full and she wanted to see it before she went in search of the Dwarf. Before she found it her gaze drifted over countless stars . . . All of which were the green of a gleaming emerald. Finally she found the moon.

It was the most stunning thing she had ever seen. It was as perfect as the crystals she had seen Jareth conjure only it was so much more breath takingly pure. Words failed to describe its luminescence and she felt her heart skip a beat just from laying her eyes on it. The light it gave to the land was cool but not cold. It was more like the welcome breeze on a hot summer's day.

Hoggle had told her that it had healing powers to those ho had not been born under its light, but she had never expected them to start effecting her. She could feel herself slowly starting to accept what had happened to her family, accept it and come to terms with it. She felt her spirits lift away from their dark depression, then an idea came to her. It slowly wound around her mind until it blossomed into a new story, as story different to what she written before. A story with a happy ending.

Smiling she quickly climbed to her feet. And cried out in pain. Mumbling a fair amount of expletives to herself she bent back until she heard her spine give a satisfying crack then shook out the stretch with a pleasant sigh of relief. Now to find Hoggle. He had quite the head start on her so she would probably see him on his way back, unless the cave opened up at the end of the tunnel.

Still smiling she set off to find the Dwarf. The cave was colder than the night outside but it wasn't too bad. She was too interested in the odd quality of light to care about the temperature. The sparkling minerals of the cave walls reflected the moon light throughout the tunnel so that everything looked to be blue. Again she took this in with the glee of a child being allowed to go exploring on their own. Occasionally she saw clusters of gems on the walls or where the wall and floor met and these grew in frequency as she went along. The light had faded somewhat when she reached a cavern where the walls and ceiling were completely covered in the gems she had seen on her forty minute walk. Then she saw something the nearly broke her heart.

A stone stature in the centre of the cavern. It reached around midway up her thigh, was carved in old fashioned clothed, including a cap and billowing shirt and had a very real cluster of jewels at it hip. Not to mention that it was undeniably ugly.

A shaking hand made its ay to covering her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. Fearfully she approached the statue. The first tear spilled from her eye. It was him. "Oh Hoggle," she wept as she dropped to her knees beside the badly carved stone. "Please not you too. I've lost too many people. Not you as well."

A hand placed itself on her shoulder. She tried to spin around to look at her assailant, sure that it was the one who had done this to her friend. She lost her balance and fell on her arse then scrambled back when she saw the man who was with her. "What did you do to Hoggle you bastard!" He was tall, no doubt taller than Jareth, with dark hair and eerily light eyes. His skin was pale and his build was strong. He had high cheek bones and elegant face, but by far the most striking thing about him was his ears. They were so pointed that their tips reached over an inch above his head. He smiled at her, obviously trying to be reassuring.

"Sarah, I used to be Hoggle." Her jaw fell as she stared at him in shock. It couldn't be! "This repulsive statue has been my prison for over fourteen centuries and my real body is what I was searching for, what was stolen from me." He kicked the statue over with little more than disgust. All Sarah could do was shake her head in dumb shock. "I'm finally whole again and I can never thank you enough for helping me." His voice was so proud, so gracefully spoken. She heard a hint of what Hoggle had began to speak like in his words.

"Who are you really?"

"My true name is Auranar, Hoggle was simply what I felt I was. It's Elvin for "gargoyle". I was an Elvin warrior and protector of the Seer. And now I need to take up that mantle again."

"How do I know you're really who Hoggle used to be?" She asked frantically. She needed proof. "Tell me something only he and I would know."

A wicked grin spread across the Elvin's face and a mischievous glint came to his eyes. "Our running joke after you defeated the Labyrinth, Jareth in drag." Her shoulders started to shake as a mental image of the Goblin King wearing a ball gown and high heels assaulted her. She began to snigger. The sniggering soon became giggles as the image of Jareth did a twirl. Then full blown laughter erupted from both of them as they shared a mental image of the fearsome and imposing King curtsying before Sir Didymus.


	6. Jareths' Condition

Chapter Six: Jareth's Condition

It was odd. She could not describe it any other way. This tall Elvin held almost no trace of the Dwarf that he was only hours ago. She could talk and joke with him, she felt comfortable with him and she could tell that he defiantly was Hoggle. But at the same time she simply could not get used to looking _up_ to his face rather than down to him and it certainly made a difference. He was more confident in leading their conversation and he seemed, well, arrogant to be honest. But it was a kind of playful arrogance that she could tell was simply to tease. On their journey back he made a point to start play fights, to pick her up and twirl her round and generally act like an excited seven year old. There was only one word to describe his mood.

Hyper.

Though she could not blame him. His body had not been used in centuries and according to him it had stored ever increasing energy for that time. Now he needed to get rid of it. And lucky Sarah she was there to help, even though she was emotionally as well as physically exhausted. But she was happy for him. She was glad that he had finally gotten rid of his cowardly streak and that he had finally found his strength.

However, she was equally glad when they reached the pond that she had arrived through and he sent her home, mumbling something about terrorising a certain King. She wished him good luck on that endeavour before somehow finding herself sat on the stool before the mirror on her desk. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and sleep for week. Unfortunately she was fairly grimy from her journey.

So with an audible groan she dragged herself to her feet and forced herself to stumble towards her pathetic but clean bathroom. It took far too much energy to remove her clothes and climb into the shower but she somehow managed it. Then came the hard part of not falling asleep in the shower. It took all of her will power to simply stay awake. She could not even remember washing, but since she came out smelling like oranges she guessed she had managed it. The next thing she new she was crawling into bed, her entire body aching from its unusual amount of use, wearing not a lot. Then she was wrapped in comforting warmth and darkness.

* * *

Jareth was leaning over his desk in his private study dressed Upperground clothes when Auranar silently opened the door. He recognised the signs straight away. So he hung back, not wanting to startle him. His shoulders were shaking. Yes, his condition was about to shine through. He mumbled something, quietly. But he heard. "Celeste. Help." It must be bad for him to be asking for help, especially if he voiced it when he was not meant to. 

What could make him have such a reaction? It must have been something terrible to cause a flare in his condition considering he had not reacted this way to anything since the war. He knew of the link between Jareth and Celeste, it had been used many times, to combat both Jareth's condition and the Aboveground denizens. But he also knew from the fact that the King was shaking so much he was pushing his desk back and the bluish ethereal glow that was barely perceptible which had begun to form at his back, that this warrior King was too far gone for Celeste's aid. So it was up to him to try and control the trembling King. Unfortunately, Auranar highly doubted that he was strong enough.

Cautiously and silently, his old Elvin habits once again taking their place with the return of his body, he approached the King who had now stopped trembling and stood perfectly still. His muscles taught and tightly strung. That was not a good sign. It meant he was close to loosing to his condition. That was never good. The Elvin shuddered at the memory of the last time he had seen Jareth's condition at its worst. It was not sight he wished to ever see again. In short, it was terrifying.

A sharp magic shock wave should nock him out. Hopefully. It had worked last time. And rendering him unconscious quickly was a better alternative by far than letting him- no, he wasn't even going to think about that.

Slowly, trying to be as subtle as he could, Auranar guided his magic to his hands, letting them charge with the energy as he stood less then a foot away from the Goblin Kings back. Please let this work. It had to work. The shock wave he was about to create would be able to knock out an elephant. But then . . . Jareth was no elephant. He felt his stomach knot and twist as he realised that his old friend was far more powerful than the last time he had done this. He had no idea of the extent of this Kings power, resilience and warding.

With a deep breath to vainly try and clam his nerves, the Elvin readied himself to act. The King twitched slightly, the glow at his back darkened almost unnoticeably. A mental cry smashed through the room. A gasp escaped the Elvin's throat.

Then it was too late.

He was pinned against the wall. Feet over a foot from the floor. Jareth's gloved hand crushing his throat. In a panic he grabbed at the Kings arm. His eyes watering from the pressure and lack of air he looked to his old friend in fear. His mismatched eyes were no longer mismatched. They were both the same murky greenish brown, and he was squinting up to him. He could not see, realised the Elvin. And the colours of his eyes had not completely swapped over. But his expression was purely animal hatred and blood lust. But there was still hope. Even his phantom wings had not fully formed.

"Jareth," he rasped, praying to every deity he had ever heard of that he could somehow get through to the King. Because he knew that his magic would be useless against him when he was like this. "Get off me Jareth." His only response was to squeeze harder. He choked, feeling his limbs turn heavy. He would dead if he didn't reach him soon. "It's me, Auranar." He was slammed against the wall. He had forgotten that Jareth only got more violent if his prey spoke. Sacred Forest, let this last thing work. "Think of Sarah," he forced out as spots danced before his eyes. "What . . . What would she think if she saw you like this?"

It worked. Jareth threw him aside and crashed against the wall as Auranar slid to the floor, holding his sore throat and gulping down air. He didn't have the strength to move as Jareth violently shook, leaning heavily on the wall. His eyes were squeezed shut. The light faded from his back, but he was by no means in control of himself. It was start however. He was back to the stage were his link to Celeste would be able to guide him back to sense.

What he had said had been cruel. There was no doubt about that. But it had also been necessary. For the King of the Goblin Kingdom was a berserker. It was a harsh and simple fact, one he had hidden for centuries even though it was in every war time legend. No one believed that this suave if arrogant monarch could loose every ounce of sense and reason he held and become a simple blood lusting monster if his negative emotions spiked too much. It wasn't his fault though. It was a genetic mishap that was very common among Vampires but less so amongst Jareth's own Angelic appearing race. But in his kind it was always shown in radically mismatched eyes, such as his own.

The Goblin King slid down the wall so that he was kneeling as he leaned against it shaking, but less so than he had been before. His forehead lay on his arm which he had limply against the wall. He was taking deep shuddering breaths, trying to fend off his condition and succeeding one small step at a time.

Suddenly his resentment towards the King was no where to be found. Perhaps it was because he had his body back so he knew he would no longer be bullied by a brother, scornful because of what he had put his sister through. But to be honest it was more likely to be because of pity. Auranar knew how ashamed Jareth was of his condition. It pained him to know that if he lost control he could, and had on many occasions, kill someone, or at the very least seriously harm someone who he cared about. During the war, when the King was a prince, he had been lucky to go one week without fully loosing control, but luckily it had mainly happened on a battlefield or when they were seriously outnumbered. He had even had to force himself to give into his conditions many times simply to ensure that he and his squadron survived. And with yet another war on the brink of the horizon it was no wonder his condition could be triggered yet again, simply because of the stress caused by knowing that giving into it was inevitable.

He had stopped trembling now and simply looked exhausted as he kneeled, slumped against the wall. Suddenly Jareth didn't seem to be the centuries old King he was, to Auranar he simply looked like the angry teenage prince who had been at the head of the realms most effective if bloody squadron. Exhausted from a battle against his condition. It was not a powerful monarch he beheld, it was his old friend.

Slowly Jareth turned his head to face him and Auranar was immensely relieved to see that his left eye was once again Blue and his right as brown. He had taken to noting this detail every time he looked at Jareth, as had the rest of his squadron, as a precaution against being caught in the blaze of his berserker tendencies. There was slight glimmer of happiness, but it was overwhelmed by the regret in his eyes.

"Forgive me, that was not quite the welcome I had planned for your return."

"You were going to keep it secret weren't you." It as not a question. He knew Jareth well enough to know that he would have only told anyone about the return of his condition if he had no other choice. The King simply smirked, but it was mirthless and self mocking rather than arrogant as he was used to. "I thought so."

There was a long pause before Jareth spoke again. And his voice was filled with self loathing, as it always was after a flare up.

"I don't deserve her. I never did, but especially not now."

"Don't be an idiot, you Angelic prick," he snapped. "Of course you do. Besides old friend, isn't that her choice to make?" Jareth simply snorted.

"I'm little more than an animal Auranar."

"Don't make me knock some sense into you, because you know I will be able to now I'm back to my usual self." Then the Kings smirk became one that clearly implied he was in serious trouble.

"That reminds me, when Celeste finds out, and she will find out," he added when he saw the grimace Auranar gave. "You'll be lucky to avoid castration."

And it was true. Celeste was even tempered the vast majority of the time, actually, more than that. She was cheery and calm. But when she got angry she could almost match one of Jareth outbursts, not counting those caused by his condition. Only from her it was far more terrifying, simply because seeing it was a rarity. But even with his pending . . . demise possibly, he would give anything to be with her again. Now that he was worthy of her in his own eyes, the only thing left for him to do was apologise and pray he survived it. Needless to say he had never been so petrified in his life, including the years he had spent centuries as a cowardly Dwarf.

* * *

To say he was nervous about doing this would be a gross understatement. What didn't help was the fact that the only effective spell could only sink through one layer of material. Which was why he was nervous. He had seen what women from the Upperground wore to bed and it was in no way modest. Especially in the summer months that had hold of the land now. Not mention he also knew that a number of women also wore underwear beneath their nigh clothes and he prayed, hoped and nearly begged anyone Gods, Goddesses, Saints and Demi-Gods that Sarah did not. Because then he would have to undress her and he simply would not be able to handle it. It was bad enough he practically had to touch her for the spell to take effect, having his hands only a few centimetres above her flesh. 

This was one of the reasons he loathed Angelic magic. Basically, it was crap. It had the range narrower than that of a small chipmunk when it was not offensive and when it was offensive it was disgustingly coarse and completely inaccurate. The other reason he hated it was because he had been beaten by it on many occasions and still bore the scars. But unfortunately the magic had its uses. It was very powerfully protective and excellently alertive, even if it was unnervingly hands on.

So Jareth stood in Sarah's small bedroom, still connected to the Underworld by a thread of magic through the weakened barrio which allowed him to see without those miserable glasses, but unfortunately made him stand out just too much to be able to use it when he wished to spend time amidst the normal population of this realm. He had been shocked to see just how small her living quarters were, though he knew she did not have a lot of money he had expected her to live somewhere a little larger, perhaps even to still live in her parents' house. So to see that she lived in a flat smaller than his own bedchamber had been a real wake up call as to how the people of this realm often lived. He was so used to occupying a castle that it was rare he thought of anything less than that. Strangely enough the children who were wished away to him were rarely from poor families, they were normally from families that were at least middleclass. Couples that thought their children were in the way of their sex life. So even when saw the homes that people lived in they were usually a lot larger than the home Sarah had inhabited with her parents.

Though he had to admire how she had cared for her tiny flat. It was immaculate with hardly a spec of dust on any surface. And it was cosy as well, filled with warm colours that brought a smile to his face. For something so humble it unusually appealed to him. Usually he was only comfortable surrounded by grandeur, but this small, modest yet rich place was somehow grounding and comforting. Then his smile became a smirk as he saw the only thing that he recognised from her old home. Her Goblin King doll, standing guard on her bedside table next to her alarm clock. Shaking his head at her bizarre logic he turned his eyes towards her.

There was slight smile on her delicate lips as she slept. She looked exhausted from her day and half adventure in the Underground, but she also looked content. He knew she had looked at the Crystal moon and that had helped her start to heal. But simply being in his Kingdom would have helped her. The very atmosphere was charged to heal a hurting heart and spirit. That was one of the reasons his Kingdom was so good for the children that were wished away. They were often hurt more than physically and stayed only long enough to heal before they were adopted by people in other kingdoms and eventually became the kind of that kingdom. The Vampiric Kingdom was the usual place for them, since Vampires find it very difficult to conceive and they look similar to humans, so the transformation was not as traumatic for the child.

Strangely enough she also looked content. Which was odd considering that she usually simply looked cold and distant when he saw her awake. His kingdom must have had a greater effect on her than he had first thought. Hopefully she would be able to heal herself from this point, though it would take longer than if she simply spent a week or so in the Goblin Kingdom.

With a sigh of resignation he summoned a crystal. Though he could gladly put his task off until dawn and beyond, he knew that he should get it over and done with. With spectacularly little effort he poured some magic into the crystal and hummed a soft Old Realm mantra in his mind, to give it the purpose of preventing her from waking until her normal time. Then he quietly held it over head, and shattered it into sparkling dust. The glittering particles slowly drifted down and landed on her skin, staying put for a few second and giving Sarah a heavenly glow before sinking into her flesh. She stirred slightly, shifted a little then rolled from her side onto her back. Well, that would make his next spell a little easier.

Hesitantly he reached out to take the quilt from her. Reluctant to do so simply because he didn't want to see her form until she was offering to show him, if such a time ever came. But still, this had to be done, and it had to be done without her knowledge or it would not be as effective. So he gently pulled away the quilt, as though afraid of waking her, when really he simply didn't want to disturb what ever dream she may be having. As soon as the cover was out of the way Jareth found his breath was caught in his throat. Did she _have_ to wear _that _tonight!

And by _that_ he meant the rather close fitting spaghetti strap top and short to match, both black. Now, Jareth was no stranger to the female form, exactly the opposite actually. His prowess at attracting lovers would be enough to make Casanova envious. And his prowess at keeping said lovers was even more spectacular. But he had not once been in love with any of his previous consorts. He had cared about them of course, and deeply enjoyed their, erm, company. Many of them had been far more beautiful than Sarah, most with rather more noticeable assets. Yet this sight stopped him in his tracks. His heart beat stepped up several notches as he looked at her. True she was not particularly busty, but what was there was made all the more noticeable by the tight top. And her legs were breath taking. Of all her body he had say that her legs were the most stunning. They were perfectly shapely. Not skinny as most women seemed to think was most attractive. He could not stand women who had no flesh on them. In his opinion skinny women simply were not in any way attractive.

This was going to be more difficult than he thought. With a deep breath he closed his eyes and spiritually searched around for that loathsome pit of power that his foul parents had _blessed_ him with. It took a while to find it since he was not accustomed to drawing upon it, but he finally found it at the back of his rib cage. No surprise there considering what would happen when he tapped into it. Another deep breath to steady his heart, but it would not be calmed for it knew what was to come.

Pain. It flared across his back, lanced through his bones and rushed out behind his, then arced around the room. All through the agony he had not moved. It was nothing compared to other tortures he had endure in the past. Then it ebbed away, leaving him feeling oddly empowered. But not in the clean way his usual, if rather mismatched, magic made him feel. This felt more natural to him. More right. But at the same time utterly wrong, simply because of his memories of those with wings of white. If he push away such memories he would have no qualms about this form of magic, but the memories would never leave, no matter how long he left it.

Slowly he opened his eyes, not afraid of what he would see, but dreading it all the same. And there they were. Just as beautiful as they had been the last time he saw them, but at the same time just as terrible. His wings. Gently arcing around the room, not touching the walls or any of the few nick knacks that belonged to her. Experimentally he moved them slightly. Not enough to do any damage to the room, but just enough to assure himself that they would follow his command.

It was odd. He knew they belonged to him, and he silently acknowledge that he would have to get used to using them once again so that he could be of more use during the war that was inevitably to come, but it just felt. . . strange to see them again after so long of denying his nature. He suddenly had the irrational desire to see if he could still fly. Oh he knew he could fly in his owl form, and he greatly enjoyed it. But it was nothing like the rush of knowing that you could do that without the aid of magic or shape shifting. Really, what was the harm in trying it once he was back in the Underground? He knew his sister went flying regularly, so really he would be able to.

But first the spell. It was simple enough, to be honest the hardest part was forcing his mind to stay blank as his hands moved a mere fingers width above Sarah's skin. Calling on the magic in him when his wings were free of their prison was as simple as it was to call upon his own, almost unique magic. Just concentrate, call and say the spell in his mind. The only real difference was that this magic was less malleable and had to be cast far closer to the target.

When he had finished he covered her back up with a sigh of relief. One thing was for certain. He would defiantly need a cold shower before he tried to fly again. And with that thought pulled himself back through the barrier and into his own bed chamber.

* * *

Sarah lazily opened her eyes to the day. She was still aching a bit, but it was bearable. For some reason she was smiling. She had absolutely no idea why, but put it down to the dream she could not quite remember. All that was left of it was a pleasant, warm feeling that was spread throughout her body. 

Her trip into the Underground had definitely been beneficial. It had been years since she had woken up in a good mood. She giggled slightly at the absurd thought that a guardian Angel must have blessed her in her sleep. After a long yawn and a stretch that made several of her joints pleasantly crack she rolled over and-

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

* * *

A/N No, Reviewing is not a Japanease city. It's a very nice way to show you liked my story, or to tell me I'm crap. Either way I'd apriciate it. 

And thank you to orientalbunny, Layrinth Mistress, White Rose Whithering, Lady Alira, Anij and BlytheSarita for taking that time to review.


	7. Everything Out In the Open, well, almost

Chapter Seven: Everything In the Open, Well, Almost

Sarah slammed open the door to Labyrinth Volumes with unprecedented anger rushing through her veins. Her eyes landed on the well presented Jareth and her fury flashed dangerously in her eyes. He smiled at her as she stormed toward him. "Sarah, it's wonderful to see yo-"

"Cut the crap Jareth! I know who you are." She snapped as the Goblin King paled, finally recognising the fire in her. "And I want to know what the hell this," she dropped her bag onto his counter and viciously pulled it open, "was this doing on my pillow!"

He stared in utter shock as the small dark green and slightly chubby goblin popped its head out of her bag. For one awful moment she thought she could be wrong. That his name and his appearance and even the art work in his store were just a bizarre and overly elaborate coincidence. Then relief washed through her, dulling her anger slightly as his shoulders slumped at the sight before him.

"How on in the name of magic did you get into the Upperground?" He asked calmly, sounding tired and exasperated. The goblin cocked its head at the King before jumping out of her bag, wagging it's lion like tail.

"I don't know Sire," it answered in a shrill voice that could be either male or female. "I just heard screaming, woke up and saw the pretty lady staring at me. She was veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery upset." Then after a slight pause it added. "Mayhaps it was cause she wasn't wearing much." A smirk curved his lips as Jareth elegantly arched an eyebrow in plain amusement.

"Well, that certainly makes for an intriguing mental image." Sarah simply scowled at him. "The Underground is through that door," he told it, gesturing to what looked like the door to the stock room. Then, when the goblin didn't move he added, "Well, what are waiting for? Get back to your own realm!"

The goblin gave a panicked squeak and tumbled from the counter. Then it noisily scrambled to the door and dived at the handle, somehow managing to open it and dash through, slamming the door behind it. Sarah stared after it in a state of numb shock. So Jareth hadn't been behind that thing being on her pillow this morning? Oh, brilliant. Now she felt like crap for being so angry at him.

"They're stronger and more intelligent than they look you know?"

"Hmm? What?" She murmured, still a little lost in her own thoughts.

"The Goblins," he replied as he leaned on the wooden counter, watching her with an odd spark to his mismatched eyes. "They're stronger and more intelligent than they look and act. They can even use magic, usually to disastrous results, but they can still do it." Then he pushed himself away from the desk and strode around to the other side next to Sarah as he spoke. "They are not however powerful enough to move between worlds in their sleep. Most of them can't even do it when awake and all of them require my permission to do so." Then he was looking down at her through the lenses of his glasses with a considering gaze. "The barrier is worse than I thought; I believe I have a lot of explaining to do. When do you have to be at work?"

"At five," she answered timidly. Suddenly she was utterly aware that she had missed several important events.

"Well, it's ten now so if you come to the Underground I'll have . . ." he frowned in concentration. "I hate working this out. Erm . . . over thirty hours to explain. I dare say that's long enough since it's almost a day. I'll just close the shop."

Now she was confused. What did some barrier have to do with her? And what could possibly take so long to explain? Before she even had time to really think about it, Jareth was behind her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I suggest we go into my realm now, because what you are about to hear is going to turn your world upside down." His voice was a whisper and she found herself feeling more nervous about listening to that voice and what it had to say than she had been about trying to rescue her baby brother.

333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333

Jareth watched her with concern as she sat on a high backed armchair in his study, numbly staring into her half empty tea cup with a frown. He could understand why. She was in shock. Slowly she shook her head and looked at him with pleading eyes. As if to beg him to say that this was just a cruel joke on his part. That all of it was a lie. Unfortunately it was not. He had told her everything with one exception. He had told her that her life was in danger, that she was a descendant of a powerful royal family, that being in the Labyrinth had triggered her magic and saved her life in the car crash that killed her family, that it was illegal for him to take her into his kingdom permanently, that if she and the other descendants were to die a war that was beyond imagination would sweep through both realms. But he did not tell her about his condition. She needed to feel like she was safe in his company and if she knew that he could become a savage animal safe certainly was not the way she would feel.

"What else?" She asked her voice oddly hollow. "What else will happen if this barrier thing crumbles?" He gave a heavy sigh before answering.

"It has already started as your little friend proved this morning. Moving between the worlds used to be so easy that even those without magic could do it," he explained softly. "But since very few people and creatures remember how to do so they will probably slip into a different realm completely by accident. A merger could even happen since I'm the only monarch that remembers how to push your world away and pull my world back to itself."

"A merger?" she was getting more timid, it was there in her voice and her posture. He could not blame her for it. She had every right to be scared.

"Yes, it's were one world sort of mixes with another. It would be our two worlds simply because of how close they once were, still are really. It isn't permanent at first, but if it isn't repaired within a few days it can become so." She blinked and shook her head, seeming to shrink with his words. "It's happened quite a few times before, but there had always been every royal family to put it right again, to separate the two worlds. But unfortunately I'm no where near powerful enough to right it on my own. I'm powerful, yes, but the Underworld is huge and more than seven Kingdoms would most likely kill me. There is something like seven hundred and fifty nine Kingdoms by the way."

"If," her frown deepened and her hands were trembling slightly. "If this barrier is so weak, then why haven't these Angels from the Aboveground come through already?"

"The Sylph, the people you are descended from, created the barrier so that as long as it stood, no matter how weak, it would never let them through. The one that is in the Upperground must have been there since the War, waiting to receive the order to attack," he answered softly.

"Receive orders?"

"We're telepathic-"

He dashed forward with a warrior's reflexes and snatched her falling cup before a drop spilled. She was staring at him with confused fear in her eyes, her mouth trembling as she tried to form coherent sound. What had he done to provoke this reaction in her?

"We?" she asked shakily. Oh damn. No wonder her eyes were wide. His shoulders slumped as he realised he would have to tell her how he had become the Goblin King.

"Come out into the Labyrinth and I'll explain, but I need you to promise me that you will let me protect you, no matter what I say or what I show you." She turned her head away, taking deep shuddering breaths through her nose. So he gently turned her head back to face him with a careful finger under her chin "Sarah, promise me. Please." Her eyes were still wide with a multitude of emotions that all battled for supremacy, and none of them were pleasant. "Please." A single tear trickled from her right greenish grey eye and he tenderly wiped it away. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut harshly as she took a deep haggard breath before giving one nod, obviously not trusting her voice.

The King set her tea cup down beside the chair for some domestic goblin to tidy away and took her hands in his. Then he tenderly pulled her to her feet as his eyes roamed her numbly frightened features with concern. He only hoped that the moon would help to lessen the blow of what he had already told her and of what he still had to say. She followed him obediently. Which was wrong on many levels.

She should have yanked her hands out of his. She should have started shouting at him. She should have stormed off to try and find her way out of the Underground.

Instead she let him gently guide her through his castle, pulling her along, holding her hands. She did not even gaze around in awe as they passed through some the grandest parts of his castle as she would have done before he had spoken to her. It wrenched at his heart to think that he had done this to her. She was frowning all the way, but her eyes were oddly vacant. Only sparking to slight life when they reached the balcony that over looked the more inspiring part of his Labyrinth.

Sarah was stunning in the moon light, as the soft luminescence it granted the world tried to lift their spirits. But they were beyond the moons aid for now. He could see the Sylph in her now, as her skin glowed pale ivory blue, reacting with the silvery light, and her hair shimmered like a flowing river. But overhead was a more obvious indication of her heritage.

Thick grey clouds swirled in the sky, gradually blocking out the shining green stars. She could nature weave already? And subconsciously? She would be powerful and skilled if she got the chance to develop. But now was not the time to think of such things. Now was the time to explain his past.

"How do you think I came to be the Goblin King?" Jareth asked softly as he watched her walk further out onto the large, flag stoned balcony. It took her a minute or so to answer as she gazed at the potted plants and ivy climbing across the ornamental waist high ledge.

"I guess your parents were the previous rulers." Her voice was dull, but he could hear the worn out fear in it.

"Not quite. My sister and I were wished away when we were seven," she turned to look at him, eyes wide with shock as lighting forked in the distance, throwing a rumble of thunder towards them. "Only our mother did not bother looking for us. She did not even glance at the Labyrinth, and then it was easy to navigate, I've added to it since then. Out of boredom mainly."

"But, if you were wished away. . ." she was confused now.

"Shouldn't I be a Goblin?" He chuckled slightly. "The children that don't get sent back are adopted and cared for by a family that can't conceive. They only turn into Goblins if a Goblin adopts them, which is not allowed to happen because the transformation would be too painful. Vampires usually get them." She frowned, still confused. Then he realised that he was still in the Goblin Kingdom and had not told her how he managed to look human. "The King at the time had lost his wife many years before we were wished away, she died in child birth and their baby did not survive. He refused to take another wife simply because he still loved the previous Queen, so he adopted two abused Angels when they were shunned by their family." Rain started to fall, it was light and sparse, but there was enough to let him know that Sarah was fighting back tears herself. "We still have our wings, but we have to call them out. Would you like to see?" He offered politely in the hopes of lifting her mood.

"If- if you don't mind," she replied sheepishly. He smiled at her, thankful he was still wearing mortal clothes.

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Sarah felt her face heat up as Jareth took hold of his fitting black jumper and smoothly pulled it off. Idiot! Of course he would have to take his top off to get his wings out! Why hadn't she realised?! And another thi-_oh my God._ She tried not to look, she really did, but she could not help it.

She shyly bit her lip as Jareth dropped his jumper carelessly on the floor, giving her the full view of his _very_ well toned chest. His build seem to cry out warrior to her. His skin was pale, and looked smooth, making her blush at the thought of running her hands over his broad shoulders to see if his skin really felt as soft as his hand were. He rolled his shoulders back twice then turned his back to her.

"Stand back, I don't want to accidentally hit you when I call them out." She nodded, even though she knew he could not see, and backed away to the other side of the large balcony.

Jareth bowed his head slightly as she watched. He seemed to be concentrating, but she could not tell since she could not see he face. She could however admire the symmetry of his well defined muscular back. And admire it she did. Forgetting for a little while about the whirlwind of confusion and fear that had smashed into her life.

Then his fists clenched. He tensed, stiff as a board. His skin was pushed at from within. It moved as though something was trying to push through it. Like an explosion wings flared form his back. They stretched out elegantly, from just below his shoulder blades. The site was breath taking. No matter how much Jareth told her that real Angels, the Angels of flesh and blood, were evil and would kill not just for pleasure but out of boredom, part of her would always associate Angels with guidance and kindness.

And an Angel was exactly what he looked like. His wings were pure white as they slowly moved into a more relaxed pose, gently arched and comfortably close to his bare torso. They were enormous. His wing span must be huge, at least twice his height. The feathers were long and looked delicate, but at the same time his wings seemed so strong. Her mind was almost numb at the sight of them and she approached without fear, without thinking. Her brain only started to function again when she realised that her hand was reaching out to touch the feathers of his gorgeous wings. She pulled back a little, but the impulse was still there.

"Do you mind?" she asked timidly, blushing deeply as the mist like rain cooled her skin. He turned his head to try and look at her, to see what she was asking; his fine blond hair and pale skin making him seem all the more Angelic. He smiled slightly at her outstretched hand and gave a slight nod, letting her know that it was okay.

Hesitantly and biting her lower lip she lay her hands on the downy feathered shoulders of his wings. He flinched at the touch. "Sorry," she said, hastily removing her hands.

"It's okay. It's just because I'm not used to anyone touching them. Go ahead, really, I don't mind." She bit down on her lip again, harder this time as she shyly reached out with her hands again. Again he flinched, but she didn't take her hands away. The feathers felt impossibly soft as she slowly ran her hands along his silky wings and he moved them slightly to make her caress easier. His head was bowed again, but she could not fathom why. Beautiful had never seemed the right word to describe a man before, but now she could think of no other. The way the moon light fell across his wings, the pallor of his skin, his golden blond hair. He was beautiful. It was as simple as that.

Then a single thought destroyed her revere.

_If I see anyone else with wings like this, it will most likely be the last thing I ever see._

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Jareth clenched his fists. It was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing the woman behind him and pressing his lips to hers, holding her and never letting her go. He had seen the way she had looked at him when he took his shirt off. He had seen her blush. She had not been the first to give that reaction, but it was the first time he had felt anything other than smug satisfaction for that particular effect.

How could she not realise how she was affecting him? He stared at the floor, concentrating on breathing as Sarah gently ran her hands over his wings. It was the most sensual thing he had ever felt. It was taking all the will power he had just to keep breathing normally and not pin Sarah to the wall.

Then she stopped.

Her hands were still there. He could feel them pressed against his wings, not far from their shoulders. They just weren't moving. The rain started to get heavier. Instead of a fine mist it became definable drops. Her hands fell away. The clouds overhead started to become denser. He folded his wings and slowly turned to face her. "Sarah?" He asked with gentle worry.

She looked to him with terrified eyes, tears trickling down her pale cheeks. Her breath was halting. And the sight broke his war hardened heart.

"I'm not strong enough," she mumbled pitifully. Where was the stubborn girl who had defeated him? "I'm not strong enough to stay alive."

"Sarah. You are strong enough to do anything. You just have to want it enough." Her tears fell fast, the rain became colder.

"I can't, I just can't." She looked so weak, so defenceless. He did not know what to do. But the rain was coming thicker and fast by the second. So he did the only thing he really could.

Timidly he pulled her into his arms as heavy rain lashed against the landscape and black clouds flooded the night sky. He held her to his chest as her quiet sobs became loud and violent. Whispering soft words to her he moved one wing around them both, to block their sides from the rain, and with the other her covered their heads, glad that his feathers were water proof. The position was unnatural and uncomfortable, but it could not be helped.

So they stood, the rain drumming heavily against their cocoon of feathers as Sarah poured out her sorrow and confusion, tightly held to the Goblin Kings cold and bare chest.


	8. You Can Open Your Eyes Now

Chapter Eight: You Can Open Your Eyes Now

To say that Sarah had been impressed by the clothes left for her to change into when she awoke would have a lie of the highest order. True she would have loved the stiff embroidered bodice and wide ruffled skirt when she was a teen. But now it just felt oddly restrictive and, well. Unnatural. They just didn't feel right for some reason. Not to mention she felt a bit uncomfortable coming across Jareth showing as much cleavage as she was. And since the bodice pushed up her bust and pulled in her waist to enhance the already noticeable curves she had, she was showing quite a fair amount of cleavage.

But at that precise moment in time she simply could not find it her to care. Not about anything if she was entirely honest. Not that someone was trying to kill her. Not that she was the only surviving member of her bloodline. Not that she was, according to Jareth, slowly turning into a Sylph. Not even that the clothes she would be wearing for the next few days showed an indecent amount cleavage. Nor did she care that Jareth had, without her prior consent, called into the bar she worked at and told her employer that she had gotten one of those twenty four hour stomach bugs that were always going around and would not be able to make it to work, thus giving her three days in the Labyrinth with absolutely bugger all to do.

No, the only thing that she cared about at the moment was watching the Goblin King familiarize himself with his wings once again. She was back on the balcony they had been on the previous night andwas leaning against the ornamental ledge, probably showing even more of her breasts than if she was stood up and yet again, she didn't care. Jareth however, was doing what hehas always donebest.

Showing off.

He was elegantly swooping and diving high above her. Sometimes disappearing into the clouds. He was also the very reason she just didn't care about anything at the moment. Watching him was sort of therapeutic. There was something in his soaring movement that lulled away all of her worries and concerns for a time. She had been watching him for almost an hour. According to the Goblins none of them had ever seen his "pretty wings" before. But from hearing so many legends, myths and stories they were slightly afraid of them, drawn, but still afraid. Even though they had known what Jareth was from the history they learnt, like so many others they had not really taken any notice of it. But one or two of them remembered when the King had been a prince, though they had refused to say much about that time.

With no real expression on her face, Sarah watched as Jareth slowly circled, descending as he did so, until finally he flapped his wings to drag at the air current and landed almost expertly on the opposite side of the balcony. Considering it was only the second time he had been flying for centuries, he seemed to have quite the talent for it. He smiled at her as she struggled to keep her eyes on his face and off of his chest. Well, she certainly could not deny being attracted to him anymore since all of the evidence was to the contrary.

He rolled his shoulders back, something his wings seemed to make him do quite a lot, then lazily folded his wings at his backand walked over to her with his usual arrogant grace.

"You look absolutely stunning in such attire," he announced, not being particularly shy about looking her over. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and she looked away, sure that she was blushing.

"Thank you," she replied shyly. Making sure she stood up straight so that she wasn't inadvertently putting more on display for him.

"I was wondering," he started with a slight smirk in his lips. "Would you like come to the sky with me?"

Her eyes widened at the thought of it. Now she wasn't particularly afraid of heights. But the thought of being carried, _up there_ with nothing but Jareths' wings for support, was enough to make her pale to an almost ghostly level.

"I won't drop you if that's what you're worried about," he almost cooed. It was obvious he was going to pull out all the stops to convince her to fly with him, and judging from the miserable way she had lost her argument about who was going to pay in that coffee house she had no chance of winning this battle either.

"And you won't go too fast?" she asked, taking a tentative step towards him.

"I swear it," he replied sincerely.

"And you won't go too high?" She took another step, biting her lip nervously.

"Cross my heart," he said as he did the hand gesture over the right side of his chest, causing Sarah to frown. But wasn't- "It's on the opposite side to a humans," he explained sounding a little exasperated.

"Well, I don't know . . ." She turned her eyes apprehensively to the sky. What she didn't see was Jareth roll his eyes in irritation.

"Oh, for the sake of Magic-" Nor did she see him dash towards her. In fact she only noticed he had moved when he scooped her up and ran to the ledge of the balcony. . . Then jumped off.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her heart pounding wildly as she felt the air rush past her at their plummeting fall. There was a sharp jerk and she clung to the King all the more fiercely. Burying her face in his neck, whimpering slightly at the unknown. The movement seemed more leisurely now. The gust of air had become a gentle breeze and nothing twisted her at stomach, well, nothing except for the fact that a certain shirtless Goblin King was holding her.

* * *

He smiled as Sarah clung to his neck, burying her face in his shoulder with her eyes tightly squeezed shut as he slowly drifted through the air, gently beating his wings. He would have given her warning had she not been acting so timid. Unfortunately for her the only person he accepted meek mannerisms from was his sister and he certainly would not put up with them from someone he knew for a fact was fiery to her core. She just needed a bit of a sharp shock to bring it back out in her. 

"You can open your eyes now," he whispered in her ear, making a rather good attempt at sounding innocent, though still failing quite miserably. She made an odd whimpering sound and held on tighter. Then mumbled something he had to fight not to laugh at.

"When we get back to solid ground I'm going to bloody kill you." So here was the Sarah he could remember facing in her youth. He had thought she was in there somewhere. It was nice to hear her voice again. Smirking he gave a reply that was probably far from welcome.

"If you open your eyes and look around I'll consider landing for you to make good on that threat," meaning that if she screamed or started to have a panic attack he would land, anything less and tough. "Though I'll warn you now, I may actually enjoy your attempts on my life; I've always had a little something for strong women." _Well, that opened her eyes_, he thought as she stared at him in a combination shock and disbelief, her eyes never moving from his face.

"I don't know what you're expecting me to do to bump you off but I can tell you now it won't involve leather manacles and a whip!"

"Such a shame," he answered, genuinely disappointed before moving onto more pressing matters. "Now are you at least going to take in the scenery while you're up here, or are quite content to stare into my spectacular eyes?" Her astonished stare quickly became a fully fledged glare and his heart skipped a beat. Here was his Sarah, the real Sarah. And he had no idea why he enjoyed riling her so much, probably because it was easy and she wasn't afraid to fight back or play along with his games.

Stubbornly, and most likely in an attempt to prove him utterly wrong, she slowly forced her eyes away from the sardonically smirking Goblin King. Her gaze was fretful, not that he could blame her, they were quite some distance from the ground, but not as high as he would like to be. No where near it in fact. They were only around twenty meters from the floor.

Her hold on him loosened to the level where he could once again breathe more easily as she looked over their surroundings with awe. She had not seen the part of the Labyrinth they flew over now since she had come from the other side, the more difficult side if he was honest. Beneath them was a glittering jewel filled maze, more conventional than most of his Labyrinth, but far too easily ensnaring. He had seen many people simply stop and stare at the spectacle if they reached it, but those with a strong will easily overcame it. Ironically it was his lands own enchanting traits that stopped him from noticing the grin spreading across Sarah's face and the glint of thrill seeking spark to life in her eyes. In fact it was only when she said his name in a way that strongly suggested she was after something that he realised those things had been brought forth in her.

"What?" he asked warily, not exactly sure what she was up to. Though he loathed to admit it, he didn't actually know the young woman very well.

"Go faster." He smirked at the way she was looking at him, a look that clearly showed she was after an adrenalin rush.

"You know, if that was taken out of context it would sound quite wrong." Before she could even answer they were caught in the rush of air his sheer speed caused.

* * *

"I know I haven't spoken to you for quite some time-oh that's the understatement if the millennia," sighed the Elvin warrior as he stood in front of the vanity mirror in the room Jareth had given him. He stared up at the ceiling as he thought for a while, and then turned back to the mirror. "Celeste, I'm deeply sorry that I have not been able to contact you for so long a time and I am such a dead Elvin." With yet another sigh he shook his proud head and leaned against the table on which the mirror sat. 

Taking a deep breath Auranar stared into the reflection of his pearlescent yet rainbow eyes. Celeste had always said that they unnerved her because of how unusual they were, which he had never ceased to find odd since both her and her brother had mismatched eyes, Jareths more extreme than her own because of his condition. However she had liked the contrast between his literally snow white skin and his blue, almost black hair. Probably because with the exception of himself, she had never seen an Elvin who was not as evenly and fairly toned as herself. Though to be honest he had probably been the only person she had seen who was not relatively pale and evenly toned, with the exception of Private "Ribbon Rush", the vampire flitter that had been amongst them, who had been screwing Jareth at that time if he remembered rightly.

He had certainly been pleased to note that his golden ear ring had remained in tact throughout the centuries, attached to his ear through the cartilage not far beneath the tip. Perhaps if Celeste saw that he still wore her gift she would only take him to the brink of death rather than actually kill him. Well, she would not kill him. That was a little extreme. Maul him was much more realistic. Perhaps dismember if she was already in a bad mood. Though hopefully she would not still be carrying that small dagger he had gotten her, not that he would be able to tell considering she could easily hide it in her cleavage and did so whenever she had it on her.

A snippet of hysterical giggling snatched him from his thoughts, along with the banging of his shutters caused but a rush of air. "What in the name of magic . . . ?" he muttered as he moved over to his window and leaned out, looking for the distraction. Then he rolled his eyes when he saw it.

Jareth winging through the air as though he had never stopped doing so all those years ago, carrying some madly laughing daft tart as always. It had been his favourite pulling method when he had been young. Always asking something along the lines of "would you like to see the stars from above the clouds?" The sad thing was that it had actually worked as well. But he hadn't done that since he was around one hundred and twenty. Wait there. Was that? Oh bloody hell it was! How had he managed to get Sarah to willingly go into the air with him!

* * *

It had been about three minutes since Jareth had decided it was time to land, mainly because he felt the presence of his sister in the throne room. He was pleased to note that both Sarah and her dress (which looked bizarre to say the least when worn by a Sylph) were suitably ruffled and she could not give a damn. Having admitted she was curious about his sister, Jareth had offered to introduce her, with the ulterior motive of getting someone else in the room who might stand up for Auranar, because he certainly wasn't going to get in the way of sister when she was on a war path. He was a great many things, but suicidal certainly was not one of them. 

Not when he had just discovered that Sarah actually trusted him. Oh she hadn't said it of course, but the fact that she hadn't started screaming for him to put her down and instead had ordered him to go both faster and higher had shown that fact adequately enough for him. After all he had beenthe only thingthat stood in the way of a very nasty fall and death for the hour or so they had been in the air together. Though he had to admit it had been odd to fly like that with someone, rather than when he had used it to awe slow witted but attractive women into his bed. Odd, but by far more fun than any of those flights had been.

"After you," he said politely as he opened the door for Sarah. She thanked him unsurely and shot him a quizzical look. "What?"

"I'm just not used to common courtesy. It doesn't happen very much where I'm from."

"Then why is it called common?" he shot back, following her through the door then once more taking the lead through the corridor.

"Because it used to be," she replied placidly her eyes once again wide with wonder as she took in her surroundings.

The next door he opened for her lead into the throne room and he saw his sister running her had over his horse shoe shaped throne as she waited for him.

"Do you remember when father used to sit here and tell us stories about what he and his wife did in their youth?" Celeste asked softly, her voice humming with nostalgia.

"They used to fight each other quite a lot if I recall correctly," he answered indulgently and she smiled turning to face the pair. Her wide, white ruffled skirt rustling as it swept the floor from the motion and her heavy and pale travelling cloak swung soundlessly at her back.

"With sword, mace, axe and words. I always have found it odd but fitting that two people who have always been at each others throats should find love with one another." Jareth raised his eyebrow at her, the significance of her words had not been lost on him and from the slight blushon Sarah's cheeks nor had they been lost upon her. With a self conscious glance to Sarah his sister stepped forward a pleasant but shy smile on her lips.

"You must be Sarah; I've heard what little a sister can hope to hear about you from an under-descriptive brother." Jareth smiled at the pair as they held their friendly conversation, despite the fact that they were talking about him.

"Well, it can't be helped," Sarah replied with a smile of her own. "Jareth is hardly a writer. If it's any consolation all I've heard about you is that you're his sister and you're name is Celeste." The Seer gave a soft laugh and sent a scolding glance to Jareth who chose that moment to artfully look away and whistle innocently.

"Men, they just don't understand the need to go into the details about anything but their escapades."

Celeste reached forward and took a gentle hold of the other woman's hands in a friendly gesture before elaborating on her (in Jareths opinion) rather unfair statement. Only to freeze as soon as she had a grip on Sarah's hands. The smile slowly slipped from her face to be replaced by a frown that could break the sternest of hearts.

"Cele-" Jareth held his hand up to interrupt her. He knew exactly what was happening.

"She can't hear you," he said softly, his eyes not leaving those of his sisters. "She's Seeing your future. Physical contact must be enough to break through whatever magic is keeping her from Looking."

The pallid Angel began to pant, dragging the air into her lungs as though there was none to take. Her chest heaved as both of the rooms other occupants looked on in concern. Her shoulders shuddered, but it did not scare Jareth. He had seen her far worse than this when the future assailed her without warning.

Then somehow she had a tight hold on Sarah's wrists and had pulled the shorter women so that they were almost nose to nose.

"Stay away from water!" she gasped in a panicked voice that was a far cry from the timid tones she had employed before. "Though it gives life to others it will take life from you! I know not if it is a river, a reservoir, a lake or harbour, but you will be drowned in such places when you are truly the last."

"Celeste," he cooed softly as he gently began to pry her away from the much younger woman before she bruised her wrists. She looked to him dazedly allowing him to move her body for her as his brotherly instincts started to kick in. "It's okay. Calm down-"

Her head snapped to the door on the other side of the room as it banged open. _Oh not now, _he thought irately as the oddly coloured Elvin stood and stared at the scene.

"Celeste," he murmured wide eyed and his chest heaving staring at the now smiling Angelic woman who pulled her hands away from his.

"Auranar," she breathed happily. But Jareth knew that tone all too well and he felt silently sorry for his old friend.

In supposed glee, Celeste ran to the Elvin, her skirts rustling madly. Then a sharp single clapping noise echoed through the room, closely followed an almost manly cry of pain as the exceptionally pissed off Seer grabbed the Evins' ear and dragged him down so that he was bent down to her hip. A hand shaped red mark clearly visable on his cheek.

"Do you have any idea what you've put me through you bastard! Fourteen centuries! _Fourteen!_ I thought you were dead! I thought you had ran off with another woman!"

"I arr-rr-rrgh, can explain." He yelped again as she dug her nails into the back of his ear, causing Jareth to flinch. Then at glancing to Sarah and seeing her puzzlement, most likely caused by the fact that if that was done to a humans ears it didn't hurt as much as Auranar was making out, he leaned slightly towards her and explained.

"An Elvins' ears are incredibly sensitive; it would be far less painful for her to go for the more common target that women use." She moved to go to her friends aid but he stopped her by putting his arm in her way and shaking his head. "This is not something you need to get involved in."

"I was worried sick! I didn't know where you were! What you were doing- _who_ you were doing! If you were hurt! Ill! _Dead_ for Magic's sake-" She stopped suddenly, catching site of something.

Herface softened as tears rose in her eyes and the slightest smile touched her lips. Slowly she released her hold on his ear and Jareth grimaced at the large, ugly red mark she had left on the stark white skin. "Oh, you still have the earring," she murmured dreamily staring at the tiny golden loop the was just above where she grabbed.

"Of course I still have you dizzy bint!" The Elvin snapped fondly. "I love you, I have all these years." Jareth scowled at the couple, _Auranar, don't you dare. Don't you dare do what I know you're going to do In front of me._

"I ca-"

"Celeste, shut up and kiss me," he interrupted, causing Jareth to clench his fist as his sister literally dived onto the Elvin, knocking him to the floor. Swearing quietly he turned from the spectacle, only to see Sarah smirking at him.

"What?" he snapped irritably. Shaking her head and smiling she answered his query quite simply.

"He would do exactly the same thing if he saw me kissing you."

Despite himself he found a small smile creep onto his face at her words. It seemed that there was some hope. After all, she didn't speak of such a thing with disgust.

* * *

A/N Thank you to Naa-chan, orientalbunny, websurffer, White Rose Whithering, angeloneous, battousailove, DanikaLareyna, Anij, AngelMusic and LadyAlira for reviewing the previous chapter. It is hugly apriciated. (YAY! Over half a hundred reviews, I feel loved.)

I've changed what you can vote for, sorry to be a neusance but I had too. If I write a sequel it would just be far too corny and cliched. So please vote because I geuinly don't know which one to write because I have so many ideas for both.

A) A prequel about the war. ( Winning so far with 5 votes.)

B) A completely different story, still Labyrinth of course. (Loosing horifically with 1 vote.)

And no, this story is not finished yet, no where near infact. There is still a fair bit to go.


	9. Vanity and Rose Vines

Chapter Nine: Vanity and Rose Vines

It was early, before Jareth came to take her to breakfast, when Sarah opened her door to the incessant pounding of a distraught Elvin. Who then promptly and almost fretfully asked the most bizarre question she had ever heard.

"Can I hide under your bed?"

"What! Why?" she asked in utter confusion as his mother of pearl eyes implored her.

"Because Jareth's trying to kill me for screwing his sister until about half an hour ago."

She stared at him, blinking. So that was were he and Celeste had disappeared to before noon the day before. Then she stood aside with a sigh, giving Auranar entrance to her room.

"Go for it, just please leave out the details of your sex life."

"I had fourteen centuries to catch up on," he said in protest as he made his way to the large four poster bed against the opposite wall. "Was it my fault that when Jareth came to wake us up we were still going!"

"I said I don't want to know! Just get under the bed and shut up!" And he did, after flashing her teasing but charming smirk.

Less then a minute after he took up his hiding place there was another knock at her door, only this one was most definitely angry rather than panicked. Wonderful, she was standing there in a very flimsy silk nightie that only reached mid way down her thighs and displayed a fair amount of cleavage, and an angry Goblin King was pounding on the door. Oh well, at least it might distract him from trying to murder her best friend.

So with a heavy sigh she once again opened the bedroom door. Only to have Jareth barge past her, fire flaring in his mismatched eyes.

"Where is he?" he demanded, sounding like a commanding King for once. Oh well, so much for the theory of distracting him, but then, she could still try.

"Who?" She asked, innocently folding her arms beneath her bust in a protective gesture.

"Auranar," he snapped, looking purposefully around the room. He didn't even so much as glance at her. "I know he's here somewhere."

"Jareth, what would Auranar be doing in my room?"

"Hiding, because he knows I'm going hang draw and quarter him," he muttered darkly. Okay, this was going too far.

Shaking her head Sarah moved to stand at his side, but it wasn't until she lay a gentle hand on his arm that he looked at her. It was only a quick glance but thankfully it didn't take him long to glance again.

"He isn't here," normally she would have felt bad for lying, however this was to save her friend from serious bodily harm so there was no twinge of guilt to accompany her words. His stance softened slightly and he glanced at her again as he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly. "The only people in this room are me and you." So perhaps it wasn't fair that she was holding her chest out slightly, or that she had moved slightly closer to him and was now almost leaning against the arm she had her hand on, but, well . . . tough. Even so, Hogg- Auranar better be bloody thankful for this. Though she had to admit, it was amusing to see the Goblin Kings reaction. The elegant arching of an eyebrow and the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Well, she had wanted to distract him.

"Weren't you going to teach me some sword play today anyway?" Okay, so that defiantly was not fair, but it got his full attention. Jareth tilted his head, smirking as he looked at her, more than obviously finding some form of _intriguing_ mental image from her words.

"Alas I must bow out of such an . . . activity for today," damn, she had been looking forward to learning a little about sword fighting. Oh well, perhaps she could get the Elvin that was hiding under her bed to teach her as payment for this over the top display. "I've just received word from the Gremlin Kingdom that an old friend, called Vanity, is currently being held in one of their high security prisons and has been there for a decade or so. Would you like to come with me while I break her out?"

"You're going to break someone out of prison because they're a friend?"

"No, of course not," he answered as though offended, but his smirk easily let her know that he as nothing of the sort. "I'm going to break her out because she's killed four other inmates in the last year, along with two guards, she's a psychopath and a member of my old squadron which is in serious need of a reunion." Her mouth hung open in shock and she gaped at the Goblin King. He was mad, he had to be. "You needn't worry, she's only a danger to you if you call her a Fawn or if you look like you're about to attack her."

"You're going to break a murderer out of prison." She stated in dumb shock. "And you want to know if I'm going to come with you?"

"She's also mentally unstable, but yes I would."

"Oh this just keeps getting better and better," she replied sarcastically. "Of course I'm going to come," she added with enthusiasm, completely giving up on the logic of the Undergrounds inhabitants. "Though I was wondering if would be possible to find something other than those dresses to wear, if it's not too much trouble."

"None at all," he answered evenly as he took a few steps back from her not bothering to be discreet about looking her over as he summoned a crystal with an overly elaborate flourish and let it role over his swaying hand. He seemed to be considering something, but what ever it was obviously didn't require much concentration as his eyes took in every inch of her exposed legs with great interest. She was about to protest at his attentions when he sent the crystal flying at her. She gave a startled yelp and it exploded, showering the whole room with a slow drift of pink rose petals.

Holding out her hands she looked at the rain of petals in wonder as she caught one of the silk like fragments of a flowers' crown between her fingers. With a dazzling flash of light it became a white feather, just like the ones from Jareths wings.

"Was that meant to happen?" She asked timidly.

"No," replied an almost sulking Goblin King as he brushed the still falling petals from his black clad shoulders, a colour he seemed to be quite fond of at the moment, or perhaps it was simply in fashion. "You deflected my spell because it startled you. It was meant to morph that rather flattering night dress into something more appropriate."

"Oh, oops."

With a wave of his hand the rose petals quickly vanished. As he shook his head Jareth conjured another crystal, but dropped it as soon his eyes landed on Sarah when she gave another startled yelp. She was glowing! From the neck down her whole body was glowing. Then she felt her nightie slip down her body, though she couldn't see it, well not until it landed in a pile at her feet, causing Jareths eyes to widen before a devious smirk curved his lips. Thankfully the light her body was giving off was enough to obscure her form. Then something happened that caused Jareths jaw to drop.

Vines rushed around her mid drift, thick, heavy and tight on her body, causing her to jerk with their speed. They were covered in thorns that should have viciously bitten into her flesh, but instead they felt like a lovers kiss. Soon the vines had dashed around her entire stomach, legs and breasts, completely blocking out the light those areas were emitting. "Rose vines," slipped the whisper from Jareths lips. But for her shoulders arms and hands more pink petals fluttered into existence pressing against her skin like the softest embrace. Then the vines tightened, crushing against each other before melding together into leather and fabric with the petals quickly following suit.

When Sarah shakily looked down to herself she could find nothing to say. She looked like some sort of warrior! Up to her knees were clad in heavy, but practical leather and buckle covered boots with thick heals that added around an extra four inches to her height. And her trousers, she had no idea what they were made of but the midnight blue material was tough as well as smooth and comfortable, if a little tight, and there was a silver crouching wolf embroidered like a ghost at the top of her right thigh. On her torso she wore a rigid, black silk covered bodice embroidered with delicate rose vines, with a stiff white shirt underneath it that was completely unbuttoned and so did nothing to hide her cleavage._ Is it just me, or is that a recurring theme with the clothes I end up in here? _The shirt in turn was tucked into elbow high black gloves, made of the same bizarre material that her trousers were made of, with the ring Hogg- Auranar had made for her over the index finger of her right hand.

"Was that you?" She asked timidly, still a little shocked about what had just happened. Jareth snorted in a most un-Kingly fashion before giving his answer.

"Don't be ridicules. Rose vines and wolves, that's Sylph magic. It's all your doing. And I must say I'm very impressed, you actually look a noble descendant of one of the most powerful people to have ever existed in the Underground." Sarah could not help but look away and blush. "The cloths suit you, you look very . . ." He gave a wry smirk as his eyes roamed her figure. Odd, had anyone else looked at her like that it would have made her skin crawl, but with Jareth she could stand there all day and just let him look at her. "Well, sexy, if you'll pardon the mortal phrasing but I honestly can't think of any other word." A low growl could be heard, fairly quiet but loud enough to arouse suspicion. "What was that?"

"No idea, let's go," she mumbled, hastily trying to push him from the room.

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He was going to kill the arrogant twat if he so much as thought about trying to look down Sarah's top. His fists clenched as he listened to the conversation from his hiding place. Oh he was going to ring that mans neck, King or not!

"You're acting rather suspiciously all of a sudden. Why so eager to leave the bedroom?" Auranar had to fight not to let another growl escape.

"Suspiciously? What am I doing that's suspicious?" _Flirting shamelessly for a start, _thought the Elvin grimly. He would have to talk to that girl when he next got the chance. Once she knew what this King was really like she would be able to make a far more informed choice about whether or not to proceed with courting him.

"Glowing for one," replied the King. "We need to get you some magic lessons, though I doubt you'll be quite this bad in the Upperground." He almost went to look out from his place under the bed to see what Jareth was talking about, but restrained himself for fear of death and instead breathed a sigh of relief when he heard them leave the room and close the door. Still flirting as they walked down the hall and out of ear shot.

Now all he had to do was somehow produce the breakfast in bed he had promised Celeste without getting caught by Jareth or one of them would end up painting the walls a rather fetching shade of red.

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"So what is a Gremlin?" Sarah asked, not her first question of the morning and certainly not her last.

"They're basically six foot two Goblins with sharper teeth and far worse personal hygiene," explained Jareth, somehow ever patient with her curiosity. Though he did smirk when he saw her pale a little at his answer as they walked to God only knows where, but it was under the castle with sandstone walls lit only by bracketed torches.

"And what's the difference between a Fawn and a Satyr?"

"Not a lot. Fawns have hair covering their entire body and Satyrs only have hair on their head and on the part of them that is goat. Oh, and a Fawn has a slightly different shaped nose, more animal like."

Why was she so comfortable doing this? It made no sense. Except that, well it did. On some strange level everything made sense. Everything felt like it was as it should be. Like this was the kind of thing she as meant to be doing. As though there was nothing odd about going through an underground tunnel with the King of Goblins, dressed like some sort of warrior on the way to some mysterious transport devise that monarchs used to travel quickly through the different kingdoms to go and break a psychopathic murderess out of a Gremlin prison. _Nothing odd at all _she thought sarcastically, still trying to puzzle out why nothing felt amiss when there clearly was. Then as if he had delved into her mind Jareth stopped them both and looked into her eyes which obviously showed confusion.

"You've tapped into magic, not to save your life but for the sake of it. The first few times you do it you're left still in the vein of energy that you tapped into for a while. Everything feels right, feels as it should do because in that energy is the nature of all three worlds. Against such a scheme our actions do not even leave a ripple on the surface. In the nature of all three worlds all is right; all is as it should be."

"How did you know . . ." He raised his eyebrow at the query.

"It was in the sound of your voice, the look in your eyes and the way you're acting. You aren't worried or nervous about any of this when you should be. Quite a lot of what you will see today will be completely new to you and most of it would be enough to scare a child of _this_ world. You're lucky that your magic has numbed you in a sense." Then he turned away and began walking again, as though they had never stopped. Leaving Sarah to follow with a frown on her brow.

After a few minutes more of walking in silence they entered a wide rectangular chamber with a vaulted ceiling. She couldn't tell what type of stone the chamber was made of, or even its' colour as everything was cast in an oddly familiar blue light, washing all other colours away. Even the black of Jareths tunic and trousers seemed more midnight that pitch. It didn't take long to discern the source of the bizarre light.

A beautiful arch against the stone wall opposite them. It was breath taking and made entirely of some sort of cut gem or crystal. There were elegant twirls and curves along with hundreds of brightly shining runes etched gracefully into the arches surface.

"I've seen gems like that before," she murmured in awe. "In the cave where Auranar found his body. Only they weren't glowing like this. They were no where near as bright." There was a moment of silence before Jareth replied as the both simply admired the extravagant yet simple craftsmanship of the beautiful crystal structure before them.

"I thought there might have been. It's a gem that only grows in the Goblin Kingdom. It's called Ireth Elensar Palantír, or moon gem to most though the literal translation is Magic Moon Gem, and is well known for absorbing magic from the light of the Crystal Moon and storing it or passing it onto a living creature. It explains why Auranar was so much more powerful than before. But it has other uses. If properly worked by a master Goblin craftsman then it can be turned towards almost any use. If you look in almost any home in the Goblin Kingdom and certainly in the libraries where an open flame can't be risked you'll find it being used as a light source. Much like the light bulb from you're world.

"Here however it has been used as a gateway to transport those with enough control to any part of any Kingdom in the Underground. Every monarch has one somewhere in their strong hold, though they are difficult to properly maintain when you don't have a Master Goblin craftsman on hand." He walked to stand by the arch and Sarah followed, her interest in this strange gem clearly showing through and prompting a deeper explanation from the King. "Do you see these runes?" He asked pointing to one of them without touching it. She nodded. "There are exactly seven hundred and fifty nine, one for each Kingdom."

"They're beautiful."

"They're Goblin," he said, a smirk curling his lips at her look of shock. "I've already told you that my people are full of surprises. They know they aren't much to look at when compared to most other kinds, in fact they only beat about four other species I the looks department. So over the years they have strove to make up for that with their language, both written and spoken, and their crafts. Some of the most beautiful art and jewellery in the Underground comes from this Kingdom." The pride in his eyes was easy to spot and Sarah found herself smiling at him. He really did love his people, though he didn't show it often. "It's rare to find a noble or monarch that would not clamour through the bog of eternal stench to get their hands on some of my peoples' work."

"If it's anything like this then I'm not surprised." She knew it was a bad idea to feed his ego, but she was being honest. She had never seen anything as incredibly beautiful as this arch. Except perhaps the crystal moon.

"Most of it far surpasses this, but this is rare and old. Very, very old."

"How old?"

"Older than the dinosaurs of your world." Her jaw dropped. That would make it _hundreds_ of _millions_ of years old! "This world hasn't changed much for quite some time. The more magically rich an area is, the more slowly it changes as it doesn't need to. Really the only thing that has changed is the techniques used in crafts.

"You know the first King and Queen were supposedly carved of this Gem when the Goblins tired of being looked upon as uncivilised savages. It wouldn't surprise me if this were true. I've seen a hatchling Goblin carve a cat and turn it into a living creature of flesh and bone with all the appropriate mannerisms and intelligence that a cat should have. Not to mention the rather painful procedures I had to go through involving this gem before I could become King simply because I wasn't a blood relative of my father." Goblins hatched? Wierd.

"I- errrr." Jareth chuckled quietly.

"You didn't realise they were so skilled did you?" Sarah simply shook her head guiltily. "Look at the ring Auranar gave you." She did, knowing that the craftsmanship was excellent. "He learnt to make jewellery from Draknall, a Goblin crafter who is almost legendary now. Though he didn't quite reach the standard that almost all Goblins reach he made up for with the mirror magic he learnt from his own kind. Open it." Again she obeyed, her eyebrows rising as her eyes landed on the tiny mirror in the lid of the ring, shimmering like quick silver in the light. "I'm not sure what spells he put on it, but they were probably for general health or protection and I can assure you they will work. But again he would not have been able to give you such a gift had he not apprenticed under Draknall." She had just assumed that the compartment would be bland, empty. She had never even considered that there would be a delicate mirror on the inside.

"Shall we set off?" She nodded, not trusting her voice. Despite the fact that everything still held that bizarre feeling of sheer rightness, she was still shocked by what she had learnt. "Okay, the arch works by touching the right rune and concentrating on what part of the kingdom we want to be in. Since you don't know the Gremlin Kingdom you'll just have to hold on to me and let me do the work. Do _not_ let go. I can't stress that enough." Why could she sense a somewhat ulterior motive behind this mode of transport?

Never the less she complied and soon they were standing in front of the arch, Sarah tightly holding on to Jareth in a bear hug and trying to ignore the fact that she was leaning against his very well toned chest, and the aforementioned Goblin King holding her with one strong arm around her waist, the other free to reach out to stunningly cut gem. "Ready?"

"No, but do it anyway."

She watched as he lightly taped one of the less grand runes then quickly flung his free arm around her in a crushing bear hug.

A violent crash of magic smashed out from within the arch. Engulfing them like a tidal wave. Crushing them like a tonne of water. She held on tighter as it almost washed her away from Jareth. Through her slightly open eyes she saw a rush of ocean blue. White foam like pockets of energy rushing past like bubbles on a wave.

Then it was gone, leaving only Jareth and her clinging to each other. Still standing. And they stood for several moments, neither seeming willing to relinquish their life or death hold on the other. Until Sarah finally broke away, curious about their surroundings.

They were stood in a barren wasteland, the only sign of life being the screams echoing from the enormous castle like fort about half a mile away from where they stood. Everything was bathed in a sickly green light that made Sarah believe there was something wrong with her eyes as she turned them skywards. The sun was red, a repulsive sticky blood red.

"It doesn't get jokingly called Colourblind Kingdom for no reason," he murmured, trying to force jest into his voice. But Sarah easily heard the unease there. Despite all his arrogance and skill, the Goblin King was nervous.

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**A/N** Sorry this took so long, severe case of writers block. Not good.

Thank you to Anij, White Rose Withering (you're review actually made me blush, you're so sweat and good reason for picking new story), crystal13moon, Shadows of Crimson (you'll see why she stopped injuring him because the earring soon enough, there is a good reason I assure you) and Morrigana (I thought you had stopped reading my fic, I'm glad you hadn't) for taking the time to review my story.

And I feel the need to apologise in advance for Vanity; you'll see why when you come across her. She's quite . . . twisted.

Okay, the votes so far are:

A) Prequel about the war (where everyone will be horribly OOC) (Winning with 5 votes)

B) New story about Goddess know what, though I do some really cool ideas. (Loosing with 2 votes, could you people at least make this a close call so it's more interesting to follow?)

Oh, and pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review my story. It let's me know that there are considerate people out there. (Smiles nicely... or at least tries to.)


	10. The Reason Vanity is a Sin

A/N I apologise for the incredible lateness of this chapter. It was remarkably difficult to write and though that is no excuse it will have to do. I spent hours of the little spare time I have trying to come up with a suitable start for it but inspiration simply refused to strike. So here it is, the tenth chapter of A Writers Mind.

Chapter Ten: The Reason Vanity is a Sin

Though he had promised her breakfast in bed, oddly enough the food was largely ignored in favour of other activities. Sacred Forest the woman was insatiable. Not that he was complaining. He did have fourteen centuries to catch up on after all. But a rest would be nice from time to time.

Thankfully he had finally managed to tire her out enough for her simply lay still for a while. Though she probably would not do so for very long. She had her head on his chest, tracing the many scars on his skin with a soft finger. He still had not gotten used to seeing her with her hair so short. Before his body had been stolen from him her blond locks had been so long they reached down to her mid thigh and more often than not she had worn it in a think braid. Without even realising it he had began to run his fingers through her shoulder length golden locks.

"It's more practical this way, in case you're wondering," she murmured sleepily.

"It suits you," he replied softly, not wanting to disturb her. She snuggled into him further before giving her reply.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like it. You always said you loved my hair long. But I had given up hope of you ever coming back to me, so I just cut it all off about eleven hundred years ago. It reminded me of you too much." His heart gave an unpleasant lurch at her words and guilt flooded him once again.

"Well, I'm back now. And I swear I'll never leave you again, as long as I wear this I am yours." He gestured to his ear ring, the symbol of their marriage. A symbol that would only remain in place as long as they were true to their vows.

"And as long as I wear my marital piercing, I am yours." She turned her eyes to him, a cheeky glint in them that suggested she was rested enough. A smirk touched his lips and he flipped her onto the bed, leaning over her as his fingers travelled down from the hollow of her neck, over her chest and kept going.

"Speaking of your marital piercing . . ." She gasped and her back arched as he reached her own, much smaller, golden loop, which was attached to a very . . . interesting place on her body.

When she had first chose to wear her piecing there he had been somewhat surprised and more than a little disappointed that she didn't want to wear it publicly. Now however, he was eternally glad that she had chosen where she had. Though he had come close to murdering the man who performed the piercing.

* * *

"Is there a reason you're so twitchy?" Sarah asked, trying to ignore the worry that was starting to coil in her stomach. Jareth smirked at her, attempting his usual arrogant manner, but it lacked the impact of every other smirk she had seen on his lips.

"Gremlins on their own would be bad enough; they're an unbelievably savage warrior race. But Vanity just makes this situation all the more difficult." She raised an eyebrow at the King. Wasn't Vanity his friend? "You've never met her so before we set off to that wonderful fortress prison over there," he gestured to the imposing building that lurked two or three miles away. "I'll tell you a little about her so that you're more prepared to meet her in person." Not looking at her, he took a deep breath and treated the description like Sarah would taking off a plaster. By getting it over with as quickly as possible.

"Well, you'll no doubt have heard of one of the Seven Deadly Sins that goes by the name of Vanity." She gave a nod, he returned an uncomfortable squirm. "Well, she wasn't named after the sin; the sin was named after her."

"Are you serious?"

"Very, it originally meant caring only for personal gratification no matter what the cost. And she certainly does that." He licked his lips nervously, still not looking at her. "If her life was made into a film it would be banned for extreme and graphic violence, excessive foul language, glorifying self mutilation, torture, and murder, Necrophilia and since she only looks about ten by human standards, quite probably child pornography."

Sarah gaped at him. He had to mad! Breaking someone like that out of prison!

"No wonder you're so nervous."

"If I was only breaking her out I wouldn't be. However," he pulled a softly glowing leather band from his pocket. "I plan on double crossing her. This collar will stop her from killing, and quite a few other foul activities," his nose wrinkled and his lip curled, seemingly disgusted just be the thought of what this Vanity would do if given free rein, "unless her life depends on it, she has permission or the activity is targeting someone without either of the Ground based worlds magic in them. And suicidal tendencies don't count as a threat."

"And the Gremlins?" Perhaps his explanation of these creatures would help her to force all thoughts of the psycho they were about to free out of her mind.

"Well, my people compensated for their appearance with artistry, Tranendells' people compensated with blood letting and weapon crafting. They aren't to be tangled with. However, I need your help or I wouldn't have put you in danger."

With a long drawn out sigh, Sarah dragged her hand down her face, dreading what was to come, the feeling of sheer rightness fading slightly as the magnitude of their activities slowly began to hit home. Why would someone as powerful and seemingly resourceful as Jareth need her help in this? From the sounds of it, he was quite used to this sort of thing. But perhaps he was out of practice

"This prison is notoriously difficult to break into, trust me, I know from experience. Last time I went in swords drawn and all and nearly got myself and Vanity killed. This time I think stealth may do a better job."

"And you need me why?" She asked impatiently.

"Rose vines and wolves my dear Sylph, rose vines and wolves." This time his smirk was genuine. What was he scheming in that head of his? "I could fly there in my owl form, but I would be shot down when I reached within a mile of the castle. You see, there are no owls in this kingdom, so even the average dim witted guard would know it was a rouse. Wolves however are very common, though their packs are much smaller since food is harder to come by here. But one wolf on its own would also be highly suspicious."

"I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"You still haven't figured it out have you?" She frowned at his question. "Your book. Isn't it a little familiar? A war between three worlds, with an evil Angelic race? The main story focussing on a squadron containing a pair of royal twins originally from that race, an Elvin, a Satyr among others?" No! It couldn't be! It had to be some sort of coincidence! It had to be! "Where did you get your ideas from? Dreams? Images that flashed before your eyes?" She turned away, her breath coming in gasps. "They were memories Sarah. The Sylph are connected to everything. But you are especially connected to my Labyrinth, and hence to me. To my memories. _Rose vines and wolves._ They are the royal symbols of the Sylph. You've shown the rose vines. Now I need the wolf."

She looked to him and found a silent plea in his eyes. He wasn't lying, she knew that much. But how was she supposed to show his the wolf? She looked away again, to the barren ground cast in that horrid green light. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she realised she had no real choice in this. Jareth was stubborn. He would not leave until he had completed his task, and she needed him to be able to get out of this place. Her shoulders lumped in defeat and acceptance. She would get a better explanation out of him later, for now she just wanted to get this over and done with.

"What do I have to do?"

* * *

Gods she hated churches. They were the most boring things on the planet, with the possible exception of maths classes, though she hadn't had one of those for over five years so churches won by default.

Her brother was at the end of the isle, getting married to that brainless big boobed tart. Oh she looked pretty enough, but she was on the top five most stupid list for the country if not the planet. Her brother though was very intelligent, and yet had managed to fall for someone that idiotic. She sighed and shook her head. This was why she only did casual sex. In case she fell in love with the male equivalent of _that_.

Her head drooped as she tried to fight off sleep.

Someone screamed.

Her head shot up.

Something was sticking out of her brothers' chest, blood spilling everywhere.

She shot to her feet. "No!" Not even waiting to start weeping she shoved someone out of her way and ran onto the isle.

She saw a flash of silver flying towards her.

* * *

He watched, unable to be amused as she staggered around, trying to get used to her four limbs. She was a rather beautiful wolf, which would not have been a problem anywhere else, but it was an oddity here. Her fur was rich and thick, the darkest black with stark white markings, those stereotypically associated with wolves. She was elegantly formed as well, lean but not lithe, yet still capable of the bizarrely fast manoeuvres that Underground wolves were feared and revered for. Her eyes had stayed the same as well. Those beautiful greyish green orbs, only much wilder now she wore what the Sylph considered to be their true forms. He knew he would look like a flea infested mongrel next to her, but to be fair if she had taken the shape of an owl, she would pathetic next to him.

She sniffed experimentally at the ground and sneezed almost instantly. Shaking his shaggy, pure white head, Jareth climbed to his four paws and padded gracefully over to the struggling semi immortal.

_Do you think you could manage walking to the fort?_ He asked with a head tilt and a musical growl. Wolf speak, he hated the sound of it and the feel of it on his now overly long tongue.

_I think so,_ she replied. Her voice a low rumble and elegant swish of her tail. _It should be enough practice for me. I feel like I've done this before, only a long time ago._

_I told you, the Sylph are connected to everything, especially their own blood. You'll be remembering one of your ancestors. Now lets go. The sooner we get there the sooner we can leave. I loath this Kingdom. It's too close to what my own could have become had they chosen a different path eons ago._

Sarah gave him a brief nod before setting off, her walk elegantly stumbling. She had been right and it wasn't long before she developed powerful and graceful stride. She even experimented with running. Finding her looping gallop to be just as refined and aristocratic as her walk. Her tail swayed slightly from side to side as they travelled, an immense show of pride and self assurance for a wolf.

She stopped suddenly, crouching low to the ground. Her hackles raised and her nose sniffing the wind. It was an intimidating sight, but a beautiful one at the same time._ I scent danger, _she growled quietly. _A foul smelling danger._ Jareth sniffed at the air, following her example, but could smell nothing. He looked to her, a slight flick of his ear replacing his usual raised eyebrow. Then he caught it. The scent was faint, like a rank mixture of stale alcohol and unwashed Goblins.

_Gremlins,_ he snarled, his own hackles raising without his command._ They must be the gates guards. We need to get past them, and I think I know how we can do it without staining your fur._ She growled at him, her lips pulling back to show her sharp teeth. There was no translation for such a movement. It was uniquely wolfish. And a kin to a battle cry in that it showed she was unafraid to do what ever was needed. But it also passed as a warning to those not of her pack, a warning that she was strong enough and had the will to fight and kill. His tongue lolled out to the side of his mouth, the wolven way to smirk. Then he went onto explain his strategy.

* * *

The Gremlins were repulsive creatures. But there disgusting appearance was nothing when compared to their intolerable stench. Yet she approach the overly tall, bat eared, heavily muscled, fang faced greasy skinned scabs without hesitation. There were three of them, all looking at her as though they had never seen a creature like her before. The urge to lunge at their throats was almost overwhelming, but she kept it check. She needed to keep a clear head for this.

One of them picked up an exquisite spear and seemed ready to hurl it her. With a deep breath, she threw back her head and forced out the loudest howl she could. It echoed across the wasteland. An eerie, unnatural, enthralling wail. She heard the Gremlins hiss in pain and still she howled. Pouring all of the anguish she could into the heart wrenchingly mournful song.

When she paused to take a breath, brief though that pause was, she saw Jareth in his pure white wolf form, so white even the green light of this kingdoms sun could lend him no colour, slowly sneaking the loop of keys from the belt of the middle Gremlin as they all had their long, thin and clawed hands pressed over their enormous ears in an attempt to block out the agony her howl induced.

Then she was crying out to the hideous sun yet again. She could hear their cries of pain, but she cared little. They were in the way and it was this or kill them. Not to mention the sweet release that was rushing through her as her beautifully agonising howl rang out into the day.

Then, as suddenly as she had started, she stopped. Turning her eyes to the three Gremlins, she lolled her tongue out to the side, mischief lighting her posture. Fury emanating from them. Jareth attempting to find some cover in a sickly shadow. With a loud yip, ripping another cringe from the Gremlins, she ran off. But slowly.

Cries of outrage followed her and soon she could hear the pounding of heavy feet behind her. Not looking back, she easily kept her pace. Letting them closer, letting them think they had a chance to win this. At the sound of a hissing whistle that sounded overly loud to her ears, she leapt to the left. Just in time to see a spear smash into the ground where she would have been.

Oh this was fun! Another howl escaped her as she ran. But this was in the place of laughter, not pain. It was light, it was playful and it was joyous. _Hello sense of adventure,_ she thought._ It's been a while._ Another whistle. She leapt again, to the right this time, with the same effect. Then she dodged back left to avoid the second spear.

Time to put some distance between them. Giving up the game she powered her legs and straightened her neck out to become more streamline. Her speed increased so rapidly that she almost fell over from the rush. But she stayed her course and kept her legs beneath her. With a scramble of claws she dashed around the corner of the fort, then sped into a heavily shadowed alcove, skidding to a stop. Quickly, she pressed to the ground, curling up to hide as much of her white fur as possible. Thanking whatever Gods there may be that most of it was on her belly.

Then she waited.

And waited.

Until finally the Gremlins rushed past, each of them having reclaimed their spears. She stayed as she lay for time, until she could no longer hear their foot falls. Then she clambered to her feet and galloped as fast as she could to Jareth. To the only door into the prison.

She was panting when she reached him. But it was with excitement, not fatigue. The door was a standard size that she would expect to see in a home, only it was solid metal. She wasn't sure what kind, but it was no doubt much harder than steal. The other wolf gave her a quick nod of approval, then disappeared into the fortress silently. She followed, easily adopting stealth rather than her brash antics.

Inside was just as dismal as out, and with the same sickening light quality. The stones that made out the narrow corridors and built the stone stairs were dank and in need of a very thorough scrubbing. The torch brackets were murky and half the torched had burnt out, leaving a half crumbled piece of charred wood in place of a lit torch. Though the lack of light was very handy for their task.

Nerves became taught and high strung within her, she made not a sound as she followed Jareth through this depressing place. But her senses were wide open, catching every sniff of excrement (or possibly Gremlin), every quiet moan of agony that the building had to offer. But they ran into very few people and those they did were easily hidden from. Though a very bulky Gremlin with an obscenely large axe had come scarily close to discovering them as they snuck up the narrow stairs to the ultra high security tower that Jareth was sure vanity would be. But his gave never dropped close enough to the floor to spot them.

They paused outside the door, Jareth silently gesturing her to check the air for sound and scent. She sniffed at the bottom of the wooden door. Fear. Very strong and oddly similar to the artificial smell of strawberries. But it was most defiantly fear. There were no Gremlins though. And she could hear something odd, something her wolfish mind wouldn't let her comprehend. But it sounded like a chi8ld demanding something from the tone of it. Sarah shook her head, pulling back her upper lip. Showing that she couldn't smell any guards, but that didn't mean there was no danger. She looked behind them, back down the stairs. Gods this place was claustrophobic. No doubt it would have been much worse had she been in her human form, and if that bizarre feeling of rightness had left her.

Looking back to Jareth, she was met by the sight of his black leather clad knees. She turned her eyes upwards to his human face as his hand slowly opened the door with a quiet, almost unnoticeable creak. She stayed as a wolf, not entirely sure how to return to her human form. With a heavy sigh he walked into the room beyond, flicking a crystal at her that suddenly made the child's voice horrifically easy to interoperate.

* * *

Most of the room was blocked off by sturdy, magically reinforced bars with the most hardy and vile inmates locked away behind them. And there she was, with a male Nymph forced against the wall, her tiny hand trying to fight its way down his tattered trousers and he struggled against her pathetically. "Now now, why so shy?" she asked in that repulsively innocent voice. "I thought you'd love getting the chance to fuck me. After all, I do look about the age of your other little girls." He yelled something back art her frantically and in the tongue of his people.

"Vanity!" Jareth snapped harshly as Sarah stalked warily into the room to stand by his side.

The tiny Satyr turned her eyes to him and immediately dropped her latest play thing. Her over large doe eyes lit up and with two bounds of her grey pigmy goat legs she had ran to the bars and sprang onto the middle cross bar to be level with his eyes.

"I knew you'd get your arse here eventually. But you certainly took your time sweet fucking time."

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but I see you're still sick and twisted perversion of your kind," he replied in disgust.

"You mean that one?" She asked sweetly, gesturing to the trembling Nymph. "Oh, he was loving it."

"Because I'm sure it's possible to enjoy a child like psychopath trying to give you a hard on so she can kill you and screw your corpse," bit the King back sarcastically. Vanity had repulsed him when he first met her, little had changed. He simply wasn't shocked by her horrific actions any more.

She smiled in response, her innocent ten year olds' face looking to him seeking some sort of praise and her delicate hands clung to the metal, the tiny horns on her brow only making her look all the more youthful.

"You are here to get me out of this run down heap of shit, aren't you?" He sneered at her, wishing he could simply leave her there to rot. Unfortunately she had been the most deadly part of his squadron and so he had no choice but to free her, however partially he might be doing it.

"Regretfully, yes I am." Her smile softened, taking years from her appearance. His lip curled in disgust.

Gently, he grabbed Sarah by the scruff of her houndish neck and took a far more rough hold of Vanity's arm, hoping he would at least leave a bruise. With little concentration, he focused on an area of the Upperground and began to pull all three of them through the barrier.

Pain slashed though his chest. Shock raced through his neck. The world warped as he tried to transport them. Everything span. Colour blurred. Sounds crashed against his ears. He hit something with a splash and was conscious just long enough to register he was surrounded by something wet and warm.

* * *

A/N Okay, you know the drill. Now you've read it pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review. I'd love your opinions on this increadible bothersome chapter that fought me every sentence of the way.

Thank you to White Rose Withering, crystal13moon, AngelMusic, sweetbabby33, MelodyWolfhart, Anij, soneone noneexistent and omen overlord. As always I much appreciate it. You're brilliant people for taking the time to tell me what you think.

As for what is coming when I eventually finish this story, my warped little mind has come up with something that I can't ignore. While I might write a prequal to this story eventually I have a new idea in the works that will most likely be half finished by the time I've finished this.

Some of you may have noticed an increase in the rating. I asure this is only to acomodate Vanity and the occasional joke. Everything else will continue the same as before.


	11. The Last

Chapter Eleven: The Last

_Jareth!_ Sarah cried out in a bark, furiously paddling with all four paws as tame waves tried to push her away. In desperation she latched onto Jareth's shoulder with her teeth, leaving the Satyr to paddle on her own. Incoherent growls rumbled from her throat as she tried to hold the unconscious Goblin King with his head above water. Wolves weren't made for this! From her frayed vision and the strong salty scent assaulting her nose, she guessed it was the sea she found her self in. Sputtering, Vanity fought her way to the struggling pair.

"You!" she yelled in her overly child like voice as the waves forced them to bob up and down, and forced Sarah to more firmly grip Jareth shoulder. "You aren't a real wolf! You can get us out of here!" She tasted blood. "Well?!" Her eyes fixed on the furiously paddling sadist. Her teeth sank further into his soft flesh. _Jareth, I'm sorry._ "What the fuck are you waiting for?!" Her wolfish eyes narrowed and a muffled growl that was meant to be speech angrily sounded out from her chest. "Shit! You don't know how do you?" Her eye twitched. At least something was getting through to the goat girl. "I'll have-" sea water dashed up and into Vanity's mouth. After spitting it out, she continued as though it hadn't even happened. "To guide you through it." With a lunge, she dived to close the small gap between them and latched onto Sarah's thick fur, dragging them down in the water for less than a second before the Satyr was back to pounding the sea with her hoofs. "Picture a place in the Underground you know! Preferably not the prison!"

* * *

Something didn't feel right. Though what that was he didn't know, but he was lying on a soft, silk like surface. Probably his bed. Gods he felt awful. His head was pounding, but still, he moved to sit up. Only to hiss as pain flashed through his right shoulder, closely followed by a whimpering sound from by his waist. He forced his eyes open, his vision slightly hazed, and saw a black blur at his side. With a houndish whine the blur advanced. Crawling slowly further towards his head, but stopped short and nuzzled his side instead. The pain in his head began to increase and it quite suddenly occurred to him that it was far to bright, so he let his eyes slip closed again. The presence of the creature was comforting and oddly familiar. If had hadn't known better he would have said it was a pet dog. But he had no pets, and this creature was giving off far too strong a magical signal. In fact, he knew that magic. It was Sylph magic. Completely undiluted and untainted. But the being that held it, that barely felt like a Sylph at all. Then through the fog of his mind, the beings identity clicked.

"Sarah?" he murmured, using far more energy than he would have liked to. A nuzzle to his side and a soft whimper answered, but his understanding of wolf speak fled with his wolfish form. "Touch my hand if you mean yes." And cold, damp nose touched the palm of his hand. He smiled. She was safe. He wasn't quite sure why he would have been worried about her safety, but he had been. "Are you okay?" Another nose to his palm. His smile widened. "Why haven't you changed back to your human form?" A grumble and the slap of her tail against his leg. "You don't know how, do you? Nudge my side for anything along the lines 'no I bloody don't'." The nudge was slightly over zealous, but he didn't complain. He most likely disserved it for something or other. "Do you remember how you changed into the wolf?" A damp nose to the palm. "It's exactly the same but backwards. Do you think you can do that?" Another nose to his palm.

A warm glow of magic bathed his right side from his waist down and had his eyes been open he was sure he would have seen the same light Sara had shone with before. A gentle hand placed itself on his stomach, he hoped she didn't notice his sharp intake of breath. "I was worried about you. I didn't know what had happened."

"At least I got us back here without mishap," he replied in a carefully measured voice.

"Actually you dropped us in the ocean. I got us back here."

"Celeste is going to kill me isn't she?" he groaned out. Stay away from water, she had waned Sarah. So what did he do? Drop them into the sea. _Well done Jareth, very well done,_ he thought sarcastically.

"She hinted at that. I'm gonna get on your other side so I don't have to worry about knocking your shoulder." Why did she sound guilty when she said that? He was about to ask, but instead found a different question on his now smirking lips as he felt her step over him at the top of his thighs so she had one knee either side of him.

"Are you straddling me?"

"How else am I supposed to get to your other side when the bed is against the wall?" she snapped in return, sounding rather embarrassed. He could easily imagine a blush heavy on her cheeks and spreading across her chest. Suddenly he was rather thankful that he had the benefit of sixteen centuries worth of practice at self control.

"I think you might have misinterpreted me, I'm rather comfortable with this situation."

"Arrogant git," she muttered darkly, lying down beside him as she did so, leaving her leg draped him and resting her head against his chest. Oh yes, he was defiantly thankful for the self control. He kept his right arm where it was, not wanting a flair of pain to ruin this, but wrapped his left arm around her. Was he dreaming this? He had to be. Sarah wouldn't do this. At least not yet, he had only just started to attempt to woo her.

"Do you have any idea how worried about you I was?" So that was why she was acting as she was. Not that he was complaining. Situations like the one they had been though in the prison were rather good at bringing people of any species closer together, Vanity not included.

"Well I'm fine, apart from the shoulder and the headache. I've had worse though," he added hastily in an attempt to reassure her. "What happened to my shoulder by the way? I don't remember being attacked." He felt her try to move away but he pulled her back against him. "Sarah?"

"Something happened when you were getting us out of that person. It was like the world was spinning three different directions all at once. I think it must have hit you the hardest and the next think I know we were in the sea and I was still a wolf. I had to stop you from drowning so I grabbed you shoulder, but the only thing I could grab it with was my mouth and a wolf's teeth are sharp." Her voice was brimming with guilt. "Vanity told me how to get us back here."

"It sounds like you saved my life. Thank you. I'll have to take you out on a date as thanks." He opened his eyes again, just to test them and found that everything was still quite blurry. But he refused to let that stop him from looking down to he with his trademark smirk.

"This is serious Jareth. I was really worried about you!"

"And I'm being serious as well. You deserve a nice night out without the threat of death hanging over you. When was the last time you got all done up and someone took you to an expensive restaurant and made you feel like you were the most important woman in the world?" The light was starting to hurt his head again, but he could put up with it, especially since his vision was slowly clearing and he would soon be able to see her again.

"No one has ever done that for me," she replied shyly.

"Well, they're about to. When is your next night off work?"

"Monday."

"Are you doing anything that night?"

"No."

"Then I'll pick you up at about half seven."

"I'm not going to be able to argue with you on this, am I?" she asked flatly.

"Certainly not. I've been hoping you'd get back to normal so I could ask you out on a date since I saw what had happened to you when you came into the shop. Though we will have to go somewhere in the Upperground since elegance is rather lacking in most of my Kingdom and I wouldn't class my dining hall as a date. Speaking of my Kingdom, that is where we are isn't it?"

"Yes, we're in the Goblin Kingdom." She sighed and nuzzled closer to him. The only thing he wasn't impressed at with their situation was the fact that both of them were practically covered from neck to toe. Well, apart from Sarah's cleavage but he doubted she would appreciate him touching her there. The one thing that he didn't like about the Underground was the lack of skin contact in everyday life.

They didn't move for a while, nor did they spoil the silence with unnecessary words. Jareth did close his eyes again, just before the migraine of the century had time to form. He just wished he could hold onto her with his other arm. Despite this he felt something he had not felt for what seemed like an eternity. Contentment. He could lie like this for centuries and not tire of it. He had no desire to move and hoped fervently that it was a feeling shared by Sarah. If only his arm . . . Actually now he thought about it, he really should do something about it. He had no idea how bad the injury was, but from experience wolf bites were quite nasty no matter how mild they were. He could wait a little while longer. Just another minute, the he would break the comfortable silence.

Well, ten minutes. "Sarah?"

"Hmm," she replied with a note of drowsiness to her voice. So she was just as comfortable snuggled into his side as he was with her there.

"I need you to heal my shoulder before I forget again." A long yawn came before words.

"How do I do that?" He was lucky that she was half asleep; she would overcomplicate and worry needlessly if she was fully awake. His kind was actually remarkable simple to heal when compared to other.

"Just put your hand on wound and think about rose vines. I'll do the rest." Another sleepy murmur followed his words. Closely followed by a gentle pressure over his wound with a flare of pain. He breath came in a sharp gasp, but other than that he showed no signs of it. It took a moment for the warmth of Sylph magic to start building up around the area of pressure, but once it did the relief was instantaneous. All pain fled and he felt the familiar sensation of his flesh slowly melding back together. Oh well, here comes another scar to go with the rest of the set. "You can stop now," he murmured in a low tone. And sure enough the warmth slowly stopped emanating from her hand and slowly seeped through the rest of his body.

"Do you want me to move?" she asked with some reluctance.

"No talking, sleep."

"Hmkay. Oh, Celeste got the collar on Vanity while I had her pinned to the floor. She's pretty pissed off and doesn't like me very much."

"Not liking you is a good thing. Having Vanity as a friend doesn't say much for your morals. Now go to sleep, you sound exhausted."

"Well, I have been guarding you for two days," she mumbled drowsily. "I had to get Celeste to call into work to tell them I hadn't gotten over that bug you told my boss about."

Again the silence returned. Comforting and as soft as her words could have been. He flexed his arm, relishing in the fact that it was soon to be wrapped around Sarah. Her weight on his chest was oddly soothing and finally his right hand found her waist. Pulling her close to him, he settled down and prepared to sleep.

* * *

"JARETH!" The outraged cry sharply snatched his consciousness back to the real world as Sarah started groggily looked around. Jareth however had a fair idea of what had happened and turned his head to face the door with a smirk on his lips.

"Yes Auranar?" he asked brightly, looking at the tall Elvin who stood in the door way with Celeste.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Lying in my bed, fully dressed, with a very attractive woman."

"What's going on?" came the groggy voice of the very woman he had been talking about.

"Auranar is about to skin me alive," he explain calmly.

"Oh, as long as he does it after out date."

"Date!?"

"Auranar is not going to skin you alive Jareth, I am." Oh no, Celeste was doing the whole creepy calm voice thing. He was defiantly in trouble.

"What have I done now?"

"What have you done! You dropped the last Sylph in all three worlds in the bloody ocean! After I had specifically told her to stay away from water!" His eyes widened in horror. He would have sat bolt upright had Sarah not been in the way of that action. The last Sylph?

"It was the barrier warping. That's what made lose concentration," he muttered to himself in a combination of worry and horror. Then to Celeste he added, "I thought you said there were three left?"

"I did," she replied, he shoulders slumping. "Two of them were brother and sister, they were killed at the same time. An arrow to the chest for one and flash blade to the neck of the other."

* * *

He approached her as a wolf, not because he wanted to, but because she had taken the form of a wolf. He jet black fur wavering in the slight breeze that rippled over his balcony. She was sat proudly, as was fitting for such a creature. She was just large enough to be able to see over the ledge, her nose was pointing to the sunset. He made just enough noise in his approach for her to not be alarmed. When he finally reached his side, he said nothing. He simply sat by her side and looked in the same direction as her. It was when he saw that the balcony's ledge was just a tiny bit too high for him to see over that he realised she was larger than him in this form. So he turned his mismatched eyes to her form.

Never had he seen a more perfectly formed wolf, not even from the royal line of the Sylph when they had been at their most powerful. Her nose was long and twitched in the wind, her ears were sleek so that the fur would not obscure any sound that might enter them. No bones were showing at her ribs, hidden not by fat, but muscle. Her legs were long, yet did not appear bandy as was a common fault with her kind. Instead they looked powerful; excellent for throwing her into that full throttle run he had seen her do in the Gremlin Kingdom. Her jaws looked even stronger than her legs, though he guessed she still had not quite mastered their use yet or she would not have drawn blood from him when they were in the sea.

He turned his eyes to the stone floor, feeling rather unworthy to be in such a proud wolf's presence when his own form as a wolf was scar covered, odd eyes and rather scrawny compared to her. He knew she must think he looked like some sort of runt. But he wouldn't be able to understand her if he was in his true form, and Underground wolves thought hunting birds was an enjoyable sport, so he didn't dare use his owl form when she was a wolf.

She tilted her head towards him, capturing him with those grey green eyes of hers. It was odd to see a Sylph with eyes like that. They usually had the most spectacular colouring when it came to eye colour. Slowly, her eyes roamed his wolfish form. Appraising him. Looking at his every strength and weakness. It was not unnerving or uncomfortable. It was simply a search for the truths in his form. _You're built for stealth but your coat betrays you._ Slowly, but not without grace, she lowered herself to her white furred stomach.

_You don't think I'm a runt? _He asked, following her example, though with a little less grace. This shape was clumsy to him. Let him take to the air any day.

_Why would I think that?_ She asked with the twitch of her ear. _I have no other wolves to compare you to. For all I know I could be the weird one for being this size._

_You're not. Though you are better constructed than the vast majority of wolves. Why don't we take our human form?_

_I don't feel human any more. I don't know what I feel, but human isn't it. _On his belly, he crawled closer to her and nuzzled her softly furred neck with a caring whine. She leaned into it gratefully.

_The more time you spend in the Underground, the closer to becoming a Sylph you get._ Her tail gave a single thud against the floor, acknowledging his words as truth.

_I want to go back to the Upperground," _she said with all the pride of a wolf. _I refuse to let what's happening interfere with my life. _Her tingue lolled out to the side and a roughish look came to her eyes. _Besides, I have a big date to get ready for._

* * *

As her arms stretched upwards, her wings stretched out, reaching their full magnificent span. Her mismatched eyes, drastic in their difference, slide over the pristine white marble that the grand throne room was built of. The watery sun that shone through the high, arched stain glass windows, glanced off of her pale skin and golden hair that was bound back in a warriors braid. Slowly, she lowered her arms and brought her wings to rest, comfortably folded at her back. Red silk hung from her shoulders, one band at each, reaching the almost sterile floor, showing her status.

She brought one hand to eye level and held it out as though it lay flat against something. Skin flattened on its underside. Had anyone seen it they would have sworn she held it pressed against glass. Her lips curved into a satisfied smirk that all at once seemed arrogant and regal. A thin blond eyebrow elegantly arched. "Not long now," she murmured, her voice soft yet deadly. The fingers of her hand bent back noticeably, but not unnaturally, as she pushed her hand forward. "Not long at all. I have so dearly missed my children." Her smirk widened to a wicked smile at her own, insincere words.

* * *

A/N I really d appologise for the wait. No doubt alot of people are about ready to kill me now. But college and fanfiction don't get along when exams come around. I hope this chapter kind of makes up for the wait.

Thank you to gothchick, Miharu KawashinotwrittenDanikaLareynaSonata IXOrion Ciel, jenny bee, Morrigana for your reviews. They mean the world to me.

And Vanity will have a larger role in the next chapter, just thought I should warn you.


	12. The Queen of Statues

Chapter Twelve: The Queen of Statues

He honestly had no idea what had first alerted him to Vanity's presence. The thunder of her hooves on his stone floor, or the wailing banshee scream tearing from her throat as she ran at him. What ever he noticed first it certainly got his attention and held it. He did not panic; he did not even attempt to come up with a battle plan. Instead the Goblin King casually stood his ground and raised an eyebrow at the charging Satyr. That in itself would have warned off most adversaries. Not Vanity. She was insane enough to stay her course and incensed enough to not care. Her tiny hands outstretched like vultures claws. A band of green leather straining against her slender neck.

He didn't bother letting the collar kick in. The second she got into arms reach, he snatched her wrist and used her own momentum to lift her from her hoofs and send her hurtling into the very close wall. She didn't cry out in pain, her tolerance was too high for her to do that so lightly. But she did hit her head sufficiently enough to make her climb to her cloven hoofs a slow one. "I don't advise wasting your time and mine on another attack Vanity. Even if you hit home it won't benefit you."

"I'm going to fucking rip you limb from limb you whore shagging cunt!" Her voice was a low and deadly travesty of innocence.

"To be honest I would have liked to see you try that even without your collar," was his almost drab reply. He had no wish to spend any time in her company. "Now, do I have to throw you at another wall or are you going to attempt civility? And I assure you I will not be so gentle the next time I need to raise my hand to you."

"I don't think so. You see Jareth, even though you're a cock sucking pile of shit, I know you never hit women unless you have to." At that he rolled his eyes, he really should have added a little something to force her to cut down on her obscenities so he could have watched her fumble for alternatives. "So, you cum swallowing fuck wit, I don't think I will be civil." He took one measured breath. Then she was on the floor again after a rapid back handed blow from him.

"When will you learn that I consider you bellow contempt and so injuring you would never weigh on my conscience, so I don't hesitate to do so? Though I do recommend not pushing your luck with that collar, even you wouldn't be able to handle the pain."

Then he did the worst thing to Vanity he had ever done. He turned his back to her and began to walk away.

"Going to toss off over your Sylph wench?! She brings a whole new meaning to the phrase _doggy style_!" He ignored her and continued walking. She would hate him for not paying her attention far more than if he turned to strike her again. Vanity always brought out the worst in him.

* * *

Why was it so bloody difficult to find something to wear?! She had gone through everything in her wardrobe, twice! Yet there was nothing, except for the black dress she had worn for her family's funeral, that could even come close to being posh enough to fit in with the crowd in the kind of restaurant that Jareth was going to take her to. She was close to screaming. And it was twenty five past seven! Jareth was going to be there in five minutes! This was ridiculous! Oh what was she going to do? She hadn't even started on her make up and hair yet! And-

"Bloody hell!" And again with the random glowing! Why her? That was all she wanted to know. She had been glowing on and off since she had gotten back from the Underground. It was actually starting to get very annoying. Soft pink petals quickly fluttered into existence across her body. Pressing against her skin, melting and melding into soft, silk like fabric with patches of strong and pale pink, almost white. Then eventually she was wearing a knee length, off the shoulder dress that was perfectly fitted to her body and "Cleavage! What is it with indecent cleavage and magic?!" Other than that, the dress was rather beautiful and somehow quite classy despite it being made of motley patches of pink. She was wearing shoes as well; again silk like, only these were constant in their colour. She wasn't entirely sure if she trusted the two inch heals on them considering they were made entirely of flower petals.

With a sigh and shaking her head, Sarah strode across her bedroom to the mirror on her vanity table to try and get a look at herself, which was easier said than done with a mirror that started at hip level and stopped at her shoulders. She would just have to go on good faith when it came to her legs. Once she was standing before the impractical mirror she realised this dress didn't simply show of her cleavage. It shamelessly flaunted her figure, clinging in a somehow sophisticated way to her moderate curves. Showing her she didn't simply look classy, but very sexy. Unsurprisingly her jaw hung open as she gaped at herself in the mirror. She hadn't even realised that she _could_ look sexy! Yes Jareth had told her that she had looked sexy in what she had been wearing to break Vanity out of prison, but she had never actually seen it for herself. In disbelief, her hands rose to her waist, her fingers skimming over the soft fabric in an attempt to prove to herself that what she was seeing was real. With a shake of her head and biting her lip, she crouched down, needing to see her face to know she was truly looking at her own reflection.

The first thing she noticed was that her hair had been styled during her little burst of magic. It still looked casual, but it has somehow become that little more voluminous. Then her eyes drank in the rest of her face. Her lips had been pinked and her eyes were surrounded in smoky make up that contrasted brilliantly with everything else about her appearance. When had she gone from being a scrawny teenager to being a gorgeous young woman? It simply didn't make sense to her. She had never been particularly popular with boys and she wasn't ashamed to admit that at twenty three she was still a virgin. Sarah was no prude, she just hadn't come across any man willing to try and force away her depression in order to have a relationship with her. She had kissed and gone a little further than that, but once her family had died any attention a boy might have given her had been warned away by her icy demeanour. Truth be told it really hadn't occurred to her that when Jareth had been complimenting her he had been honest.

A knock on her door snatched her from her almost startled revelation. A smile found her lips. That should be Jareth. Forcing herself to walk rather than run, Sarah made the short trip out of her bedroom and to the front door. Her hand rested on the handle as she took a deep breath in a vain attempt at calming herself. Then, a warm smile on her lips, she opened the door to the Goblin King. The single red rose he held nearly fell from his grasp when his mismatched eyes landed on her.

Gods, even though it had only been a few days, she had forgotten just how oddly _human_ he looked wearing glasses. Truth be told she had almost forgotten he needed glasses in the first place. Yet, despite the human edge they gave him, they didn't make him look weak. Instead they lent an odd sort of intelligent deviance to his blue and brown eyes. As always he was dressed absolutely immaculately, though he seemed to have tried to add a little colour to what he wore this time. Though whether an almost black, dark blue shirt counted as colour she couldn't say. Especially since his jacket and trousers were black and the slight colour of his shirt could almost go unnoticed. He stood there, at her door, the rose limp in his hands, drinking in her appearance as his lips tried in vain to find sound.

"What would your subjects say if they could see you lost for words?" she teased lightly, finally snapping him out of his revere.

"About bloody time most likely. You look," and there his words dried up yet again as his eyes roamed her form and face. Eventually he gave up with an overdramatic sigh. "Absolutely stunning and that has to be one of the biggest understatements I have uttered in the last fourteen centuries. You look like a true Sylph Noble woman, dressed for court." Heat rose in Sarah's cheeks and she felt her stomach twist wonderfully. Sure she was blushing hideously; she allowed a full smile to find her lips. "And you're smiling properly as well."

"What?" she asked, confusion glimmering in her voice.

"When you first came into my shop when ever you smiled it wasn't a real smile. It was like you smiled because you knew it was expected. But now, now you are smiling for real. You've healed." Simple words. You've healed. Nothing flowery or overly grand. Simple words for a simple fact.

"I," Sarah found herself starting hesitantly. "I believe I have. I'll just get my keys and my bag. I won't be a minute."

* * *

Crystal moon he had never seen a creature so stunning in his sixteen centuries of life. True, she was not the most beautiful woman he had ever come across, but she more than compensated for that with her mind, her poise and everything else that made her so wonderfully _natural_ and _stunning._ She was simply herself and, judging from this badly maintained corridor with it's peeling wallpaper and stained carpet, she was the rose amongst the slime infested rubble.

It didn't take her long to return, clutching a small bag that obviously didn't match her dress. For some reason it was oddly refreshing that she genuinely didn't seem to care. Her hands were quick in locking her door and she was soon facing him with those amazing grey eyes staring right into his own mismatched eyes, biting her lip with a smile. With an almost lazy motion, Jareth reached up and pushed his glasses back to their appropriate place.

"Well my Lady," he said with an exaggerated flourish, offering his arm to her. "Our table awaits." Lightly, she placed her hand on his for arm after putting her bag over her free shoulder. But after less than a second she slipped her hand down his arm to his own hand and entwined their fingers, blushing as she did so.

"Then lead the way good Sir." It was so _good_ to be able to feel her skin against his, even if was only their hands. And even better, she had initiated it. That simple fact started an odd and pleasant warm glow burning in his stomach. It almost rendered him speechless again. So, offering her the rose and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze to show he wasn't about to reject her any time soon, he began to lead her out of the apartment block. She accepted the rose with a wide, girlish grin and a pinkish glow on her cheeks, allowing him to escort her.

Jareth kept the conversation as light as he could as they walked through the streets and made sure to flatter her at every opportunity. Sarah being Sarah of course, rose to the challenge fearlessly and rather blatantly flirted back, though she couldn't keep herself from blushing at his compliments. In his opinion the walk didn't last anywhere near long enough. As was often the case, slums shared a doorstep with high society, though it was rare the high society side noticed that. The people from that place tended to wrap themselves in a little secure bubble that stopped them from noticing who their next door neighbour really was.

At roughly quarter to eight they reached the restaurant and Sarah's eyes widened. Though not in joy as he had hoped. It didn't take her long to crush the sheer horror he had seen there and turn a cheery smile in his direction. She was trying not to hurt his feeling but he could easily see that this was somewhere she really didn't want to be. He couldn't see why she was so disappointed. It wasn't the most expensive place in the area, but it was the best. The decorations were classy and elegant; every table had a crisp white cloth over it and was set with silver cutlery and crystal wine glasses. The floor to ceiling windows easily showed the warm lighting and smartly dressed waiters and waitresses.

"Wow," she said to him with false breathless enthusiasm as disappointment at her reaction and joy at her attempt not to hurt him battled supremacy. "When you said expensive I didn't think you meant _this_ expensive. Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" _Ah, so that's the problem,_ Jareth noted as he saw exactly where her eyes kept flicking to. The other customers. All rich, all perfectly dressed in the latest fashion with the woman dripping in diamonds. She felt uncomfortable pretending to be one of them.

"Oh, I don't know," was her weak reply as he guided her through the door with his hand on the small of her back. A slick but portly doorman greeted them. A slightly wider smile on his face than was strictly necessary when his large friendly eyes took in Sarah's attire.

"Do you have a reservation sir? Madame?"

"Yes, we do." For some reason Jareth found his arm snaking around Sarah waist, though whether it was out of affection or possessiveness he honestly couldn't say.

"Name?" he asked politely, looking to the open book on the hip high pedestal.

"Faedon."

"Very good, follow me please."

Sarah's eyes were fixed on the plush carpet as they were lead through the restaurant. Jareth however was quite pleased to note the seething jealously that found its home in the eyes of the painfully thin women, and in the subtle lingering looks that the men where giving his date. Their table was small, square and secluded. Away from the window as he had asked. He didn't want his date day dreaming on him tonight. He beat the doorman to pulling out her seat and she blushed as she took it. They were handed menus as he took his own seat and the doorman hurried off. Biting her lip, a little harder than she usually did from the look of it, she opened the menu, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on it.

"Come on, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied lightly. Unconvincingly.

"My dear Lady, you look distinctly uncomfortable. I'm simply asking why." She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a deep breath.

"I don't belong here." Her eyes opened and turned to him, allowing the discomfort she felt shine through for him to see. And its depths were as immense as the sea he had dropped them into. "Look at the women here. They're all elegant. They were probably born into this kind of life. All the ones that aren't fifty plus are absolutely beautiful and perfectly groomed in the latest fashion and dripping in the most expensive jewellery. And the older women? Ruthless business women who know that to look good they have to look powerful. Then look at me. I'm a barmaid in a dress I literally accidentally conjured up."

He sat, looking at her for a moment. Then let his eyes slide around the room. He knew exactly how to deal with this little problem. "You see that man over there? The one with the green shirt? He has spent the last thirty seconds staring at those wonderful legs of yours while his girlfriend has been eying your dress, obviously looking for some sort of label." She glanced to the couple he had gestured to and instantly began to blush. "And the couple behind you. The woman, one of those old business women you mentioned, keeps looking at you with this little nostalgic glint to her eyes and I can tell from her facial structure that she used to look quite a bit like you, and from the way she keeps glancing at me I'm guessing she now wishes she had focussed on other things in her life. There's no ring on her finger and she sat with a woman who looks like her mother." He turned his eyes back to her. "The women in this place are insanely jealous of the way you look and the way you hold yourself. And I'd say the men are rather jealous of me at the moment since they keep staring at you, if they had any less control over themselves I would say they would quite likely be drooling." At that she gave an adorable half giggle. But he still see she felt uncomfortable.

"When I was younger, and I'm talking about until I was about five hundred years old and still the Undergrounds biggest slag, I used to see these type of women as easy prey. Rather inane but at least they would know what they were doing once I got them into bed and they looked good as well. But honestly the only thing they were good for was an easy lay. They thought they were witty and charming and the most beautiful women in the Underground. They weren't. They were dull, vapid and vain. You however, are intelligent, brave, strong, interesting and not to mention a Queen." Her eyes widened at that.

"I'm not-"

"Actually you are," he interrupted casually. "There is active royal blood running through your veins and as the only surviving Royal Sylph, by the law of the Underground you are the Sylph Queen." He smiled at the frown on her brow. "Queen over a realm of statues."

"Statues? I thought you said all the Sylph were dead?"

"Technically I suppose they are. When they created the barrier they put so much of themselves into it that they turned in to crystal. Really they're not dead, but they aren't exactly alive either. Any way, enough about all of this. We're here to have fun." Her back was straight now, her eyes unashamed of herself now as they turned back to the menu. He followed her example, hoping to find something that wasn't some weird culinary experiment. Perhaps it was the soldier in him, but he preferred more simple foods.

"I wonder what Auranar would say if he had heard that cascade of flattery," she said sweetly with a wicked little smile as she looked to his over the top of her menu.

"His mouth most likely wouldn't have much to say but I'm sure his fists would."

"I'll have to make sure I don't say anything to him then." Unfortunately the mischievous glint in her eyes said otherwise.

A short but pretty waitress took their order with a smile and they descended deep into pleasant conversation once again. Somehow, he wasn't actually sure how, Jareth ended up holding Sarah's hands in the centre of the table. If you had asked what they had been talking about, he honestly couldn't tell you. It wasn't the kind of thing that stayed with you for longer than it was said. But if someone had asked him how Sarah had reacted he could have told them every smile and how it had made her eyes light with warmth, how, over the course of the meal and the glass or so of wine they each had, she slowly started to look at him her own, not quite so puppy eyes version of adoration. In fact she seemed almost challenging, baiting him even. He could have perfectly described the way her hair bobbed when she moved her head to the side. He could have picked out the exact shade of pinkish red that her cheeks turned when she blushed at something he said. She ate oddly delicately, with absolutely impeccable manners. Yet the food didn't stop them from talking, it slowed it down perhaps but it didn't stop them.

The bland stars of the Upperground were hidden behind thick, threatening clouds, along with the moon when they left the restaurant after Sarah had shown exactly how horrified she was at how much the meal cost by the slight widening of her eyes. Not exactly what he had pictured for walking Sarah home, he had been hoping for a clear night, but then nature has a way of not bowing to the wishes of creatures, no matter what the species. He didn't dwell on it though. Oddly enough Jareth was more interested in the fact that his arm was around her waist as they walked and Sarah was doing nothing to remove it. In fact she seemed to have moved closer to him once his hand was in place.

Was this a dream? He had waited so long for her to be this warm towards him that now she was he wasn't entirely sure if it was real. Yet there she was, with her own arm finding its way around him, under his jacket, as she smiled up at him still holding the rose he had given her almost three hours ago.

"You remember when you were a girl and I offered you your dreams?" Jareth asked, attempting to keep the curiosity in his voice casual, though he wasn't entirely certain he succeeded.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"What exactly was I offering you?"

"You mean you didn't know?!" The horrified astonishment in her wide grey green eyes shone through as brightly and as brilliantly as any sun he had ever seen.

"I guessed," he confessed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. "But I was never entirely certain. Actually now I think about it offering you your dreams is most likely one of the most utterly stupid things I've ever done."

"Yes it was. My dreams then were bloody extensive. I dreamt of being a proud warrior one night. Then the next I was an actress like my mother. The next I was a doctor and the night after that I was an explorer. It would have been impossible for you to keep up."

"Oh really," he replied playfully as he pulled her to a stop and tugged her against his chest with a cocky smirk on his lips. Though it flickered slightly when he realise with a start that they were very nearly the same height. True she had a little help from her shoes, but even if she had been bare foot she would have only been two inches shorter than him. Odd, he had never been attracted to a tall woman before. Even in this she was so totally different from the type of woman he usually went for.

"Yes, really." Mischief now reined supreme in her features and she brought up her arms to wrap them around his neck and bring him that little bit closer to her. He was overly thankful that they were on that awkward little overlap where rich met poor and the street never seemed to be un-cracked or used.

"And what do you dream of now?" Jareth found himself asking huskily, even though he knew the answer would be having her book published.

"Jareth," was Sarah's purred reply. The silk in her voice would have made him weak at the knees had he not had so much well trained control over his body. "You of all people should know that I don't dream. My night time wanderings are through your memory, so I know exactly how much of a whore you were in your youth."

"Ah." He gave an awkward cough. It was bad enough having someone he was interested knowing the first centimetre of that particular icebergs tip, unfortunately it seemed that Sarah knew a hell of a lot more than that. "I actually prefer the term slag. Whore implies I was getting paid, when really I was quite happy to act that way for free." His breath hitched in his throat as she leaned that little bit closer. He could feel her pleasantly warm breath tickling his skin now. He swallowed, hard, as everything around them seemed to fall out focus. He didn't see the disused railway bridge behind them. He didn't see the row of street lights. He didn't see the expensive furniture shop next door to the boarded up building they stood beside. What he did see was her smooth skin, glowing slightly in response to the sparse moon light. Her plump pink lips, posed into an inviting slight smile. Her almost luminescent half closed eyes that gazed hazily back into his. Her proud pointed nose that had the tiniest little bump in its bridge, adding to the character of her stunning face. "What do you think you would dream about if it weren't for my Labyrinth?" It was a conscious effort to stop his voice from shaking and a far stronger effort to stop himself from absolutely ravishing those perfect lips of hers.

Her smile widened slightly and she bit her bottom lip, only for it to slide out of the grip her teeth had on it. Slowly, hesitantly, Sarah began to lean her face towards his. It took less time than a glance for him to follow her example.

Rain drummed down so fast and hard that Jareth was almost convinced someone had thrown a very cold bucket of water at them. Their heads snapped apart the tiniest moment before their lips could meet and their eyes turned to the clouds above. Snatching Sarah's hand, Jareth ran to the bridge, pulling the semi-Sylph with him. She was laughing, actually laughing! He couldn't help but smile at the sound even as they were rapidly getting soaked. Finally they dashed under the bridge, out of the sudden, heavy rain.

With his free hand, the Goblin King ran his hand over his hair in an attempt to stop the water using his fringe to drip into his eyes. He could barely see thank to the droplets on his glasses so he took the irritating things off and attempted to dry them on his shirt. Needless to say he wasn't very successful, though he could see a little better when he returned them to their appropriate place. At least he wasn't the only one that was soaking.

He turned his eyes back to Sarah with a smile on his face. She was just less than hopelessly blurred, but he didn't care as he firmly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She didn't resist and her arms were soon around his neck again. "Where were we?" he asked smugly, a smirk on his lips as he looked to the greenish patches on her face that he assumed were her eyes.

"We were deciding who was going to kiss who first," was her oddly matter of fact yet flirting reply.

"So we were." He began to close the gap between them yet again, hardly believing that this could really be happening.

His eyes widened as a dark blur dashed towards them. "Get down!" He cried, sending them both crashing to the concrete ground. The sound of beating wings pounding past over them.

* * *

**A/N** Thank you to sweetbaby33 and notwritten for reviewing chapter eleven.

Now I would like to point something out.

Hits to that chapter - 191

Reviews - 2

Can anyone see my problem there? Now that I've highlighted that I would quite like to know what was so bad about that chapter that I slaved over and struggled to fit in amongst all the revision I've been having to do lately. Is it just that people don't realise how difficult it is to both write something you don't really identify with (het is not my forte since my interest in the males of the species is minimal) and find the time to write something? Or was chapter eleven truly abysmal? Take the chance to let me know now so that I know if I'm just wasting my time continuing with this story.

That said, please review to let me know what you think. I know I've said this before but I really do appreciate it.


	13. David Bowie

Chapter Thirteen: David Bowie

"YEHAW!" Jareth raised his head from the cold concrete ground to watch the beast skim over them and crash into the ground near the opposite end of the tunnel. He knew that voice. And the only place that accent could have come from, well, apart from Texas, was the Vampire slums. A knowing grin found its home on his lips.

Enormous black and spiny wings battered against the ground and the creature raised its monstrous head, giant maws wide and an unearthly screech ripping from its long sinuous neck. A neck he saw a Vampire sat on, her legs wrapped tightly around the beast and a long dagger in her hand. Hissing herself, she jammed the blade behind the creature's skull. It bucked its neck, a Banshee like scream tearing from its jaws, long tail thrashing in its last attempt to throw the Vampire off. Practically growling, the Vampire rammed the heal of her palm in to the daggers pommel, burying the blade up to hilt. One final spasm saw the creature collapse and go still. Still astride the monsters neck, the Vampires head lolled back, a rapturous hiss slipping from her throat as she bared her fangs to the world, savouring the joy of the kill.

He chanced a glance to Sarah. The poor woman looked absolutely horrified. More wings were heard. A dark silhouette fluttered at high speed into the tunnel, clinging to the wall. It turned its hugely eared head towards them, its tiny eyes glinting in the sparse light. Then it scurried up, over the curve of the tunnel and down to the ground, crawling forward on the concrete a few steps before rising to stand. A wide shouldered thing, bat like in appearance with dark grey fur and the Clan Crest of its own branded onto the left side of its chest.

Laughing quietly to himself, Jareth climbed to his own feet, pulling a shocked Sarah up with him. The Vampire untangled her legs and removed herself from the creature to saunter over to them, an over exaggerated sway to her hips. Her dark brown hair cut to level with her jaw, short in stature with an excessively voluptuous figure and ears with a half inch point. She wore a billowed shirt under a metal bodice that stopped under her over large bust, along with well worn boots and leather breaches; wide black ribbons tied to her legs, one on each calf and one on each thigh, the long excess wavering in the slight wind.

"Well, if it isn't General Ribbon Rush," he greeted jovially. "An Echo," he added with a nod towards the Batten.

"Actually my ass got busted back down to Private." Her accent had faded a lot since he had last spoke with her and she no long sounded like a slums girl born and bred. But a trace of it was still there.

"You have to be kidding me! Why?" The outrage was easy to hear in his voice. Ribbon made an excellent General. One part psychopath, two parts domineering bitch and three parts skilled warrior. A formula that worked rather well in battle.

"The new Queen," was her grim reply. "She doesn't believe a flitter like myself really has any use. Ungrateful little brat."

"Flitter?" Asked Sarah, a frown on her brow. Now it was apparent he knew these people it seemed she was much less terrified. She had most likely thought it was an Angel that had flown over them.

"Is that a Sylph?" came the low, almost mournful voice of Echo as he slowly walked over to stand at Ribbon's side.

"Sort of," he answered. "She's one of the descendants, but the magic in her has been roused. And a Flitter is someone, usually a Vampire, that can run almost at the speed of light or sometimes faster."

"She doesn't look very fast," was Sarah's reply as she eyed the Vampire with something approaching jealousy.

"Don' let this little ol' frame fool ya sugar. I'm the faster flitter there is." Sarah's eye twitched at Ribbon's smile. Then he realised. When the Squadron had been in full flow he and Ribbon had been casually sleeping together, and oh Mother of all Magic! Sarah knew! He had gotten up to that part in the manuscript she had given him. This was going to take some serious sweet talking on his part to put her back into a good mood.

To reassure her that he wasn't about to run off with the Vampire, he slipped his arm around her waist. But she continued to glower at his old friend. Then Echo reached up with his leathery wing and draped it over the Vampires shoulders, a similar look of possessiveness about him. That was when he spotted the glint of a silver ring on his hooked thumb like appendage. A glance to Ribbon's corresponding wrist showed a wide bangle, also silver. It was concentrated effort not to let his jaw drop at that.

"I can't believe it, someone actually managed to get Ribbon to be monogamous!" The warning look the huge bat had previously worn suddenly became rather smug. "When did you two get married?"

"Sixty two years ago," replied Echo as Ribbon leaned into him, grinning like a new bride. It seemed they were still in the honeymoon period. Give it another century and they might have hit reality. Sarah seemed to perk up at that revelation as well, seemingly no longer seeing Ribbon as competition. Though the fact that she had was oddly flattering to the King.

"And you," he said to the Batten. "I thought you were going to be distraught for eternity." At that Echo shook his head, causing his wide ears to flap slightly.

"I found the one who killed Lithe-wing and we duelled. I won."

"So I can see, you would not be here if you hadn't. What are you two and that thing doing in this realm any way?"

"Oh, that," mumbled Ribbon, glancing at the creature over her shoulder. "That's a cloud viper. They keep slippin' into this realm and Her Majesty has seen fit to grace me with the clean up job. Any idea why that keeps happening?" At that the King became rather grave and Sarah shot him a worried glance.

"The barrier is being destroyed one descendant at a time." Ribbon swore loudly in Old Vampirean and Echo gave an indecipherable screech.

"When did this start?"

"About a week or so ago. Sarah here is the last one left."

"So you're whining and dining her to keep her safe?" A cocky smirk had replaced the sickened expression Ribbon had worn.

"I'm wining and dining her because she's an interesting and attractive woman." The Batten and Vampire exchanged a wry glance.

"I won't believe that until I see Wedding piercings from you, but then again, if you have the same sense of humour as your sister I doubt it would be visible."

"Don' be ridiculous," laughed Ribbon. "Jareth? Married? A serious relationship would be close enough to a miracle."

"Hey, if you can calm down what is there to suggest that I can't? As I recall you were far more of a whore than me."

"True, but I didn't look as though I was about to vomit when ever someone suggested an actual relationship."

"Now, now children," interrupted Sarah, a playful note to her voice. "If you can't play nice I'll have to separate you." Another glance shared between the married couple. This one with raised eyebrows and odd half smirks.

"It sounds like this one might actually be able to keep you in line," announced the huge bat, his eyes glimmering. But Ribbon was frowning and looking at him oddly.

"Is it just me," she began, a note of uncertainty in her voice. "Or does Jareth look a hell of a lot like David Bowie?"

"How do you even know who David Bowie is?" asked the Sylph. But she turned her grey green eyes to his face. Closely scrutinising his features. "But now you mention it, yeah. He really does."

"Vampires can come and go as they please so I've been to a few concerts-"

"I do no look like David sodding Bowie!"

"Are you sure?" teased Echo. "He might be an illegitimate descendant of yours from back in the day." Jareth could practically feel the colour draining from his face and he suddenly felt rather queasy at the thought.

"I doubt that," he murmured. But even to himself, his voice sounded strained and unsure. More than any one he was fully aware of what he had gotten up to in his youth. "Any way, what is this? Taunt the Goblin King while he doesn't have jurisdiction day?"

"The only time you've ever had jurisdiction over us was when you were our Squad Leader and even then we ripped the piss out of you every chance we got."

"What are you doing about the barrier anyway?" At last, safe territory. Thank you Echo.

"Keeping a close watch on Sarah and reforming the squadron. I've got Vanity on a tight leash and Auranar is back-"

"You mean he survived Celeste?"

"You're as shocked as I am," he told Ribbon. "Are you two rejoining?"

"If it gets me away from that prissy little bitch on the Vampire throne I'm up for it." Echo gave a nod, signalling he would go along with his Vampire bride.

"Then go to my castle and ask for Miffle. He'll prepare a room for you. But make sure you do something about that . . . cloud viper?" Echo gave a nod. "Wouldn't want some poor human running across it." He glanced to the bridges opening and a slight smile found his lips. Escape! "Now if you'll excuse us, the rain has stopped."

It was a relief when the usually departing pleasantries were exchanged. Ribbon doing what she does best and ridiculing him was all well and good, but tonight was not a night he wanted to be mocked. Especially not in front of Sarah. He still couldn't believe the Vampire had actually gotten married. She had been even more wild than he had. And Echo? The old bat had been utterly heart broken for so long that even his realm had not been able to pull him out of the depression that came after his mate had been murdered. Now it seemed vengeance and Ribbon had done what magic had failed to do.

Finally they were back on their way to Sarah's flat, but thoughts of two near kisses would not leave his mind. Even as they laughed and joked on their way. By the time they reached Sarah's door he was close to praying another interruption would not be forth coming. It simply seemed that someone out there didn't like him. Well, someone out there that could actually do something didn't like him. Most people that didn't like him had no choice but to put up with him.

The setting was all wrong for their first kiss. A dank corridor with pealing and stained wall paper wasn't exactly the most romantic place. Not that the door step of the slums or under a half maintained bridge had been much better, but this place was by far worse.

Though the place slipped seamlessly from his mind when he turned his eyes to her once they stood by her door. His glasses had dried off so he could see her now and what a sight she was. The rain had soaked her hair and the tumble to the ground had left her dress speckled with dust and dirt, as well as scraping skin from her knees. Yet none of that harmed her appearance in the slightest. In fact it seemed far truer to who she was. Lending a sort of wildness to the way she looked, even as a blush came to her cheeks and spread across her chest at his not so subtle appraisal of her form.

* * *

If her landlord came out now, she would wring his flabby neck. Rain she could handle, having to duck for cover so she didn't get knocked out by some weird looking creature she could handle. Even a meeting with Jareth's ex-girlfriend. But if one more thing got between her and Jareth's lips she would most likely scream. Loudly. Then maul who or what ever had been stupid enough to interrupt.

"Have you enjoyed yourself?" asked the Goblin King, his eyes still lazily surveying her through his glasses, raising a blush from her. But she wasn't exactly going to let something like blushing stop her from smiling at him.

"Definitely, though not having to duck and dive would have been nice." At that Jareth gave a quiet chuckle, taking the chance to take a more firm hold of her waist and pull her slightly closer.

"Interruptions, interruptions, interruptions," he muttered, voicing the annoyance she felt. For what felt like the thousandth time that night, Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing contently.

"We really should kiss now before another one comes along."

Jareth didn't reply. At least not with words. Wasting no more time he leant towards her and gently pressed his lips to hers, something approaching hesitance in the movement. As though he was testing her reaction. The hesitation didn't last however, mostly likely because her reaction had been to lean into the kiss. Her mind went beautifully blank as their mouths moved as one. Her grip around his neck tightened when weakness threatened her knees. Jareth held her more firmly with much needed support as her stomach fluttered in the most wonderful way. Eyes fluttered closed when keeping them open became a conscious effort. Warmth flooded her, spreading from every point of contact between herself and Jareth.

After what could have been minutes or hours, they finally pulled apart. Both more than a little shaky on their feet and clinging to each other for fear of falling. Biting her lip, Sarah earnestly turned her eyes to the eyes of the Goblin King. His eyes were still half closed and there was the most endearing look of uncertain disbelief on his face. As though he couldn't quite believe that he really had just kissed her. She leaned in again, pressing her lips to his. But briefly this time. A reassurance that he had not imagined it.

At last his cocky smile returned. Gone was the disbelief, replaced instead with a rather smug expression. "Well, that was certainly worth waiting for." Sarah gave a murmur of agreement, doubting her ability to be articulate. "Any chance of seeing you again soon?"

"You could always come to the bar I work at tomorrow night. I'm on stage form half eight until eleven then I have to walk home." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "It's ever so scary in that area late at night. Walk me home?" He gave a heavy sigh, looking at her with his head tilted. Then grinned, effortlessly picking her up to twirl her around. Her dress flaring from the movement before her feet found the floor again.

"On one condition, well two."

"And what would they be?"

"Well, the first is that from now on I get to tell people you're my girlfriend." Another warm flutter found her stomach as she pretended to mull over Jareth's condition.

"Okay," she replied as flippantly as she could. The look on his face bordered on ecstatic, but she interrupted before he could give a whoop of triumph. "And the second condition?"

"Oh, that?" A roguish yet somehow devilishly charming glint came to light in his eyes as a smirk found his lips. "Kiss me again."

No sooner had he finished speaking had her lips again found his. But this kiss was more playful and she soon shoved him away with a rogue like grin on her own lips, making him stumble back a few steps.

"Now get out of here. You've got a Kingdom to see to," she teased, getting her key out of her bag as Jareth grinned like a child for whom Christmas had come early. "And Jareth?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be late tomorrow or I'll kick your ass." Then with one final amused word he shimmered back to his own world.

"Kinky."

"Jareth!" Too late. He had already gone. Shaking her head in a mixture of annoyance and general hyperness, Sarah quickly let herself into her apartment to lean against the door with a huge grin of her own.

* * *

Finding a seat in the bar wasn't difficult, despite the dim lighting. He wasn't too far from the front either. Though she wouldn't be impressed with his half an hour late arrival. She knew about his difficulties keeping track of time though. The bar itself wasn't particularly impressive. It was the sort that most people avoided unless they were absolutely sure they could beat up at least half of the population with ease. The place was clean enough, though the same could not be said of most of its patrons.

That didn't bother him however. He was too interested in her singing to care about décor. What she was wearing was far too revealing for where she was, but she was there to attract more customers so she had her legs on display and was wearing a low cut top. Yet that did nothing to detract from her performance. While she wasn't the best singer around, she certainly had the charisma to catch attention . . . and the assets to keep it.

He watched with a smile as she purposefully over swayed her hips to the music, the microphone to her lips as she sang the powerful rock ballad. Striding across the stage with all the poise a "rock chick" was supposed to have.

A loud twang sounded, like the miss pluck of a guitar.

An arrow appeared at her throat.

He cried out in despair and horror as she fell back, spraying the crowd at the front with her blood as her dark brown hair flailed at the movement.

Another twang. Another arrow. To the left side of her chest this time, where her heart must be. She collided with the drums as he ran toward the stage, headless of his own safety.

* * *

**A/N** Sorry if there are any typos in this but I know for a fact that if I read over it I'll scrap it and start again. This chapter really has not liked me.

Any way, thank you to Naildriven, xXFlippyXx, notwritten, Orion Ciel and sweetbabby33 for reviewing chapter twelve. Just so you know, I'll be going over the full story and correction the hideous amount of spelling mistakes and wordsjoiningtogetherlikethis as I can over the next couple of weeks.

And finally I would like to draw your attention to a review by **kambeiisahotoldman**, or rather a flame. I'm sharing because I found it funny. When I read the first sentence my heart sank, then I read the second sentence of this (insert extreme sarcasm) very well put together critique of my story (finish sarcasm) and I was in hysterics. Though I was slightly bemused and offended when they told be to "be gay", meaning rubbish when I am in fact a lesbian. Any one else amused by their review of Chapter One?


	14. The Hunter

Chapter Fourteen: The Hunter

_Jaaaaareeeeeth._ The hideously sing song voice was unbearably familiar in his mind as he stumbled against the wall of his castle. Pain flashing through his neck and his chest. The vision of a young woman on a stage with dark hair flickered in front of his eyes for a second, but he saw enough to know it wasn't Sarah.

_Jareth. _This time the cry was a whimper from his sister. Finally the world steadied and he knew what had happened. They had missed one of the descendants. Sarah had been the second last and now, with the barrier little more than thin membrane as delicate as a bubble, his mother could reach the mind of both him and his sister.

_I'm here Celeste._

_Now now Jareth, ignoring your dearly beloved mother isn't polite. _Crystal moon her voice was as slick and as venomous as he had remembered.

_The only thing I would love about you would be to have your head mounted on a plaque and GET THE HELL AWAY FROM CELESTE!_

Dipping into long unused abilities, he sent the mental equivalent of a right hook slamming through the connection to that foul Angelic wench. A scream echoed through him then all was silent.

Perhaps the certainty that was growing in him was foolish. Perhaps it was reckless and rash. But he knew what he had to do now, even though it meant defying the laws of the Underground to do it. He was about to make seven hundred and fifty six Kingdoms very angry.

Sarah was coming to his Kingdom after tonight.

* * *

Jareth looked around the bar with a raised eyebrow. _This_ was where Sarah worked? The place was a dive. Smoke clogged the air and clouded the room, making the little light there was murky. The bars patrons didn't look particularly pleasant either. Most of them were unwashed and many had long unkempt beards. On the whole it reminded him of the many smugglers dens he had visited in his youth and was most likely equally as dangerous. Spotting a barmaid with smooth curled blond hair, Jareth quickly made his way over to her catching her arm once he was near enough. 

"Excuse me miss," he said with slight smile. Her dark eyes turned to him and her mouth formed a small 'o' shape as she took in his form. "I was wondering if you could tell me where Sarah is. She works here." Her eyes widened slightly and she smiled, seemingly in recognition.

"You must be Jareth. Sarah said you looked like David Bowie but more attractive. She really wasn't kidding." He didn't know whether to growl in annoyance or jump for joy. She had been talking about him! Even if she had been comparing him to a glam rock star. He settled for rolling his eyes with a smile in the end. "She's a lucky girl and you're a lucky guy. You'll just have time to get a drink before she starts on stage."

"Thank you," he said, releasing her arm before turning to the bar. He ordered a non-alcoholic drink and received and odd look from the bar maid before it was handed over for quite the extortionate price. He had learnt long ago that it was most unwise for him to drink. He was quite the angry drunk and with a condition like his anger was the last emotion he wanted to nurture. After taking a sip of his drink he discovered that the Underground was not the only place fond of watering down and so he took a seat at the bar, shaking his head. What had he seen in places like this in his youth?

The lights dimmed. With a frown Jareth turned around to look at the stage. He could see the silhouettes of people and hear the murmurs of the bars patrons. A strong husky female voice sang out with a power to rival any mans and an unquestionable note of seduction.

"Shot through the heart  
And you're to blame  
You give lo-o-ove a bad name"

Light flared with pounding of a drum and the strumming of a guitar. His jaw dropped when he saw Sarah standing at the microphone. Knee high stiletto boots, a black leather mini skirt draped in chains and a well fitted Iron Maiden t-shirt. She had curled her hair as well. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. No, she was definitely on the stage wearing about the _hottest_ outfit he had ever seen on a woman and yet managing to not look like a cheap whore. She was stood with her hip jutting out and her foot tapping to the beat. The song went on with Sarah flawlessly playing the Rock Goddess. While her voice wasn't exactly superb by any stretch of the imagination it was certainly enough to perfect her strut and charisma. Every movement from her brief foray into air guitar to the occasional swivel of her hips was faultlessly arrogant and taunting in a way that only rock was meant to be. To say he was mesmerised would be a gross understatement. He was starting to think she should have warned him about just how . . . explicit her performance was.

A smile curved up his lips when the song finished and the bar erupted into wolf whistles and raucous applause. "Why thank you very much," she said, her voice just as husky as it had been when she had been singing and a self sure smirk on her lips. "I take we have some rock fans in the bar tonight." More cheers rang out from the men around him. This place really was the Upperground's equivalent of the Undergrounds smugglers dens. Though he was fairly certain Sarah wasn't a whore like the singers of those places tended to be. "Well then, I'll have to make sure I don't disappoint you." The guitar started up again, closely followed by the drums and the piano type instrument. A keyboard was it? The name seemed about right.

"So you think I got an evil mind  
Well I'll tell you honey  
I just don't know why  
I just don't know why"

"God she's hot," came the smoke abused voice of the man sat next to him. His greying hair stuck out from under a filthy trucker's hat and there was several days worth of stubble on his undernourished face. Enough to make Jareth unsure if he had simply forgotten to shave or if he was starting to grow a beard.

"Yes," he found himself answering with smug pride. "She most certainly is."

"Ever seen her on stage before?"

"No, this is the first time." Still smirking Jareth turned his eyes back to the stage, rather proud that he could make an entire room jealous once she had come off the stage.

"You've missed out then. She sometimes wears these tight leather trousers and a low cut top and considering how often she spends leaning over towards the crowd . . ." he finished, waggling his eyebrows. Jareth suddenly found himself in a far less charitable mood. He turned his eyes to the man in irritation.

"She's my girlfriend," he pointed out sternly expecting the man to back off. Instead a wide grin spread across his face, exposing the four gaps that had previously housed teeth and he coughed out an impressed laugh.

"Lucky bastard," he barked jovially, clapping Jareth on the back "There's not a man in here who wouldn't give up their own good hand for the rest of their lives for just one night with her." He gave the King another friendly slap on the back. "Most likely because she's as close to unattainable as possible. How the hell did you manage to snatch her up?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself." Nor was entirely sure why he was tolerating this man. Though he was most definitely hoping that he wasn't being patted on the back with his 'good hand'. Thankfully the conversation died and the rather unwashed man stopped touching him. That was definitely one of the things he had not missed in all the centuries since he had stopped frequenting places like this. At least no one was trying to sell him some random and useless stolen goods.

* * *

Slowing her rate of wing beat, she lowered herself to the rooftop of one of those ridiculously high buildings that had been cropping up everywhere in the last hundred or so years. Smoothly her feet touched the roof and she ran a few steps before coming to a halt and comfortably folding her wings. A frown found her smooth brow as she forced her senses to widen. What was that thing near the last mongrel Sylph? It felt familiar. Too familiar. It was something she knew she should recognise; perhaps something she should fear but it had been so long . . . 

Then memory, the ruthless master that it was, hit her. It was one of her own. An Angel! Oh one of her own kind, with wings of white! It had been so long! She could barely remember any of her own species. Well, except for her older cousin but she wasn't inclined to count that one since she had been talking with her since she had foolishly found herself trapped in this magic forsaken realm, filled with its verminous cattle. After the two World Wars the time had been right, the number of mongrels had been cut drastically. Her job had been easy. Her separation from her kind had been given purpose. Now there was only one left and one of her own was close to it.

So why was it still alive? And why hadn't this one of her kin come to find her? Curiously but quietly she reached out to the fellow Angel only to find her way blocked by the most extreme loathing she had ever come across on the subconscious level. They were male and they hated their own kind. That was all she could read from them. Was that why the mongrel still lived? Because this Angel had no wish to free his kind so they could claim the two inferior realms as was the right of their superior race.

But what male Angel could loath their own kind with such fervour? Her eyes widened as realisation struck. It couldn't be! Surely he would have killed himself after the War of the Wings. After the atrocities he had both seen and committed. He had done the unthinkable to his own kind. She had seen it with her own eyes. She had seen him rip the wings a from fellow Angels back when he had flown into a blind fury. To even touch an Angels wings without their permission was sacrilege deserving of death so it was impossible he would have survived the guilt of removing them. Or did he truly hate his own kin to such an extent for that most heinous of crimes to cause him no qualms? It was possible. More than likely now she thought about it.

"Jareth Crossfeather," she murmured to the wind. Timidly trying the name on her tongue. "The Damned One." If he was there that meant he was more than likely protecting the mongrel. There was no chance she would be able to come out victorious against him. He was a butcher, a blasphemer and more powerful than she would ever be able to dream of becoming. And he was a berserker like his mother. Worse, he was a King in the Underground and so had all the power of his kingdom to call upon should he need to.

Her plans would need to change if she was still to carry out her duty and free her people of the shackles the nature perverters had forced upon them. All hopes of ending it tonight were gone; there would be no way to get close enough to the mongrel to be able to kill it without the Damned One knowing. He would surely sense her presence and kill her before she could give her people the chance to avenge themselves against both realms and especially against him. She would need to be patient, the Lord of the Wing surely favoured her over the Damned One, he would give her the opportunity she needed if she was simply prepared to wait.

* * *

A huge grin on her face, Sarah ran from her finished set on the stage into the waiting arms of Jareth. Completely blocking out the rest of the bar's occupants she firmly pressed her lips to his. The kiss was brief and she had soon pulled back to look him. There was a rather smug smirk on his lips as he levelly looked into her eyes through the lenses of his glasses. "What did I do to deserve that?" 

"You were on time," she told him simply, then admitted "and I'm glad to see you."

"Always good to hear. You were brilliant by the way. I'm not sure what I was expecting but you most certainly topped it." He reached up and began to toy with one of her very sprayed into place curls. Then a frown found his brow when he discovered the curl was reluctant to move in the way a curl should and he raised his eyebrow at her.

"Hair spray in large amounts," she explained. "And thank you. I thought you'd hate it just because of what I was wearing." He hadn't given up on her curl yet and he seemed determined to make it bounce as a natural curl would.

"No, I enjoyed watching you flounce about on stage wearing a short skirt and singing in that wonderfully husky voice of yours. Though I have to admit I was rather tempted to rip the eyes out of the man who decided to sit next to me."

Batting away Jareth's hand, she hooked her arm through his and pulled him towards the door. "Come on, I spend enough time in this place as it is." He didn't resist and it was a relief when they were out the door into clean air. They walked in silence for a few minutes with Jareth frowning at the ground. It wasn't like him. Usually he would have been talking, more than likely making some sort of crude joke. Instead he looked shaken. It simply wasn't right for Jareth's personality. He was boisterous, he was cocky. He wasn't quiet. A quiet Jareth was as unnatural as a dolphin with legs.

She stopped him with a hand on his chest and looked into his mismatched eyes with worry. "What's wrong?" A raised eyebrow was the only response to her question. "You're quiet and pale . . . er than usual." A slight smile found his lips and fondly shook his head before taking hold of her hand.

"You weren't the last descendent. There was one other and now she's been killed. The barrier is weak enough to let my mother contact Celeste and myself. It's shaken me a bit." A frown found her own brow. She didn't know much about Jareth's mother. Only that she had wished him and his sister away and not bothered to face the Labyrinth to try and win them back. She could guess that she wasn't a pleasant woman from Jareth's reaction. Again he reached up and began to toy with one of her styled curls.

"Do you enjoy your job?" What did that have to do with anything?

"Not particularly," she answered honestly.

"Then come to the Underground. Let me house and hide you for as long as I can." There was no panic in his bearing, only calm certainty. As though he knew she would die if she stayed in the Upperground no matter what he did.

"I thought that was illegal."

"It is," he replied with a careless shrug. "But I don't care. I can try and convince the other kingdoms to see reason when they discover you. Unfortunately I'm the only monarch old enough to have been alive during the war so I'll have to rely on cheap tricks to try and keep you safe, but it's a better chance at life than you have here."

What could she say to that? It was almost like the 'your brother or your dreams' dilemma he had set for her seven years ago. Only worse with it being her life and his that were pictured on the playing cards. "What would happen to you if you can't convince them?"

"Not a lot. Most Kingdoms would get very angry with me, perhaps they would stop trading with the Goblin Kingdom. Or at least the monarchs would. Their people will always want Goblin art, or some of the crystals that only grow in my Kingdom or even food. Trade is pleasant but it isn't a necessity. One or two have been looking for an excuse to go to war against me but twice those numbers of Kingdoms owe me some quite substantial favours and none of them are Kingdoms anyone would particularly want to be on the wrong side of and one of them actively boycotts the Underground Council."

Frowning, Sarah looked to the ground. It was simple when she thought about it. Live the life she had now and die in a matter of days or leave it and go to the Labyrinth for however long she could. Really, what was there keeping her in this place? Her job sucked, her apartment was cramped, her landlord was a pervert, not to mention the fact that all of her friends and her boyfriend lived in the Labyrinth. The choice was getting easier the more she thought about it.

Biting her lip, she turned her eyes back to Jareth and gave a brief but firm nod. "Okay. I'll come." The sigh of relief that escape Jareth showed just how worried he really had been.

"Well then, we had better go to your flat and collect what ever you wish to take with you. Though I think it would be best to keep up with the rent in case you have need of the place again, but you needn't worry about that, I'll take care of it."

"I couldn't ask you to do that!"

"You didn't," he replied with a smirk as he slipped his arm around her waist and guided her onwards. "But as I said, you needn't worry. I'm rather good with matters of the economy so I assure you I can afford it. Besides, I've closed the book shop. It seemed a bit ridiculous keeping it open given the circumstances. Though I'm rather sure I'll be full scale publishing your book in the Underground at some point."

Sarah froze. Had she really heard him right? Did he really say what she thought he said? Her hands came up to cover her mouth as disbelief washed away any other emotion. Jareth looked at her and smirked. "Well, it is well written and makes history by far more interesting than it usually is." With an excited squeal she leapt on him. Flinging her arms around him and trying to jump for joy at the same time. "You can say thank you later, for now we have to move you out of your flat."

333333333333333333333

Crouching down, Jareth glared into the mismatched eyes of that doll of Sarah's. "Please tell me you're not keeping this."

"Of course I'm keeping it. My mother gave me it just before she left, said it would watch over me." He frowned and turned his own mismatched eyes to her. She was emptying her wardrobe and folding her clothes.

"You know that it's your mother's fault I knew about you?" He looked back to the doll. "She summoned me when she was divorcing your father and beat me in a game of chance. Asked me to watch over you as the prize she claimed so I gave her that to alert me if anything went wrong. The magic in it faded once you turned sixteen. I can't believe I had my hair like that." He didn't turn back to her as she gave a quiet laugh. "If I ever go back to having a mullet I want you to shave my head. It was terrible." Her laugh was louder this time and glanced up to her as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

"It wasn't that bad." Her hands slipped down to wrap around him and she leaned her chin on his shoulder to look at the doll with him. "You looked sort of . . . fearsome. Besides, I'd rather have you with a mullet than have you bald."

"Oh please, mullets are an abuse of the privilege of having hair." A sigh escaped her lips and tickled his neck as Sarah shook her head, amusement plain to read in her features.

"I can't believe our first argument as couple is about mullets."

333333333333333333333333

**A/N** Thank you to sweetbaby33, notwritten and jensworld for being kind enough to review Chapter 13. The promiced editing is still not finished. I haven't had the time unfortunatly but I've done a few chapters and the rest will be done over the next week.

Thank you for reading, I'd appriciate it if you leave a review and tell me what you think.

Oh, and well done to anyone who guessed that the woman from Chapter 13 wasn't Sarah.


	15. Life in the Labyrinth

Chapter Fifteen: Life in the Labyrinth

It was with an odd sort of reverence that Jareth ran his fingers down the well tended wood of the large cabinet. He had not opened this since the end of the War of the Wings. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to reopen it. It would make things all the more real. The current Master Blacksmith was behind him, standing next to Sarah. He was big for a Goblin; reaching Jareth's waist not including its hair which was a fairly impressive luminous orange Mohican. He was bulky as well, with large arms and broad shoulders. Jareth was beginning to wish he had some sort of nervous habit.

Taking a deep breath, Jareth slowly opened the cabinet. He heard Sarah gasp behind him, but he had eyes only for the array of pristine weaponry within. While most weapons would have rusted away over the last fourteen centuries, his own had been expertly made with both metal and magic. His twin swords were hung at the back, their blades each the length and a half of his fore arm. On either side of his swords there were other blades, knives and daggers. It had always been rare that he had used those, but they had come in handy a few times. Beneath his swords were his vambrace, rather battered but well polished. Chances were they wouldn't fit any more. While he was lean now he had been near weedy then. Then on the left door was his ebony bow. He wasn't particularly good with that weapon but for some reason having one slung over his shoulder tended to command more respect than the sword at each hip. His mediocre archery didn't bother him though, Vanity's sheer expertise and Celeste's uncanny knack more than made up for it. Besides, he used a different weapon for a longer range.

His eyes turned to the right door of the cabinet. Flash blades. Five of them in various sizes. His eyes still on the perfect metal discs, Jareth removed his gloves and tossed them to the floor. The Goblin flinched, not used to him treating his clothes in such a way. He took the middle flash blade from its hook and placed it on his palm. It was about the size of a plate and had the usual hole in the middle; the metal was enchanted silver with inlaid gold. Slowly, he ran his finger around the top of the weapon, feeling just how flat it was. Then he frowned and passed it to the Goblin. "There's a slight dent and it needs sharpening. If memory serves it hit off a stone column." He followed the same ritual with the other four but found no fault with them and so returned them to their stands.

Then he removed his swords. He felt a faint quiver run up his arms as he held them. A quiver that had nothing to do with the magic they held and more to do with memories. An odd rush of joy almost. They were just as perfectly balanced as he remembered and holding them again was like greeting an old friend. These swords had saved his life and the lives of his friends on countless occasions. He swung one and then the other. Getting to know them again. Except . . .

"The blades are too short for me now. Can you lengthen them by two thirds of an inch?"

"Yesssssire," replied the Maser Blacksmith. He had forgotten how odd the Goblin's speech was. Though he recognised the ascent as being from the border of his Kingdom that faced the Serpent Kingdom, which explained the hiss. Without another word he handed the swords to the Goblin.

Next were his vambrace. He didn't even try and put those on; he just compared them to his arms and shook his head. No chance. He had put on a bit of bulk since he had last worn those things as all male Angels did after their third century. Passing them to the Goblin he said "wider by three sizes and longer by one." The next hour passed in much the same way as he went through the rest of his arsenal, passing damaged or obsolete weapons to the Blacksmith with orders for improvement, repair or replacement. Once his cabinet was half empty and the Goblin had lumbered off to begin his work, Jareth leaned with his arms braced against the open doors, forlornly scanning the contents.

He didn't turn around when he felt a hand place itself on his shoulder. He did however give a content sigh and close his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I will be in a moment. It's just," he paused, not entirely sure why he felt as though what he had just done had been close to sacrilege. "I haven't opened this cabinet since the end of the War of the Wing and I had intended never to open it." The hand disappeared from his shoulder and arms wrapped around him from behind with Sarah pressing against his back and leaning her head against his neck. Despite what he knew was to come in the near future, he couldn't stop a smile from gracing his lips.

* * *

Celeste fidgeted as she sat on his horse shoe throne with Jareth staring at her in a combination of joy and absolute mortification. "When are you planning on telling him?" he asked. She opened her mouth to say something but ended up closing it and giving a sheepish whimper and a shrug. "Crystal Moon only knows how he's going to react."

"Oh don't remind me. I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not now with a war on the horizon." At that Jareth raised his eyebrow.

"Then you should have been more careful, or do you need a heart to heart on how to stop such things from happening."

"Very funny Jareth." Unfortunately she sounded too frazzled to be threatening.

* * *

"There's a difference between killing and murdering," said Vanity as she looked down her arrow with the bow string taught and her arm perfectly straight. Her childish voice caressing her words with a perverse sensuality. "Killing is sloppy, crude and garish. But murder.

"_Oh_, murder is pure art. Murder takes skill, creativity and inspiration. Murder can be just as sensual as the most tastefully done porn. Just as exquisite as the rapturous bliss of fucking someone who knows what they're doing." She took a deep shuddering breath, a blissful smile on her lips and let it out trembling. "Any idiot can kill, can take a life. But it takes someone with a _real _gift to create something as intensely beautiful as _murder._" The way she purred her last word crossed the border to obscene.

The tiny fingers that gripped the butt of her arrow sharply fell away. The string of the bow snapped back to its natural position. The arrow flew true towards the target that was a good two hundred feet away into the arrow that was already nestled at its dead centre. Splitting it down its middle. Unfortunately Sarah, Ribbon, Echo and Auranar didn't see the impressive accuracy as they were all staring at the Satyr with near identical expressions of disgust. Sarah holding a yew bow limply in her left hand.

"And," Ribbon said with familiar revulsion. "Had the target been something with a pulse, she would have had an orgasm." Sarah's disgust deepened as Vanity flashed what would have been a charming smile on anyone else.

"You're point?" she asked sweetly.

"I think I'm going to be sick." And with that Sarah ran towards the castle with her hand over her mouth.

* * *

Sarah had been in the Labyrinth for two weeks, meaning fourteen days, not the Underground equivalent which was forty two days, and she had unfortunately not been able to spend much time alone with Jareth. Mostly due to the almost ever present Auranar who seemed to delight in glaring at her boyfriend and generally behaving like an over protective older brother.

She had gotten a better hold over her magic so she no longer flashed like a neon sign from time to time; she had been learning archery and had discovered an innate gift for fighting with a pair of sickles. Ribbon, who she preferred far more than she thought she would now she had gotten to know her a little more, had been shocked to find herself getting battered by a half mortal who had no idea that she would be able to hold her own. Jareth hadn't been surprised at all. Apparently the Sylph King that she had descended from had been incredibly skilled with the weapons.

Now however Jareth had pulled her into his throne room and was currently locking the door and warding it against unwanted Elvin. She hoped fervently that it would work. With a sigh, the King turned around and leaned on the door to look over her form with slight smile. She was wearing the first clothes she had ever conjured up, though the main reason she was wearing it was that she knew Jareth liked it.

She turned away from him to hide her blush and walked over to his odd shaped throne. A frown found her brow as she looked at it properly for what was most likely the first time. Who on earth had designed the thing? It was horseshoe like in shape and sloping as well with no real defined back, simply the seat then the rim on metal rods with the whole thing draped in what could almost be described as scraps of grey, light fabric.

"Sit on it."

"What?" she asked, looking back to Jareth and feeling more than a little foolish at his suggestion.

"Sit on it," he repeated easily, still lazily looking over her form. "It's more comfortable than it looks."

A sigh escaped her and she bit her lip. Well? What could it hurt? Letting her shoulders slump in defeat, Sarah turned and gracefully placed herself upon the throne. Only to start squirming instantly.

"I thought you said this thing was comfortable." A grin spread across Jareth's face and he sauntered over to her.

"You're sitting on it wrong," he replied lightly. "It's Goblin made remember? You're not supposed to sit all prim and proper. Get up and I'll show you how to get comfortable on it." With a slightly mocking flourish, Sarah rose to her feet and gestured to the throne. Rolling his eyes, the King dropped into it gracelessly, his back against one side and his legs hanging over the other.

"Very regal," Sarah drawled sarcastically as Jareth smirked pleasantly up at her before making a move to get up. Only to be pushed back in place by the half Sylph. This time his eyebrow rose in question. "You are not going anywhere now that I've finally got you to myself." Normally it was Jareth that made the first move, today however Sarah was feeling rather bold.

So she climbed up onto the throne to straddle his waist. Needless to say his other eyebrow soon join the one that had already risen only to be rather quickly replaced by a roguish grin as she leaned forward and firmly pressed her lips to his. The kiss was deep and searching as his hands rapidly found her thighs and followed them up to her buttocks.

The door loudly swung open with the sound of Celeste saying "Jareth are you-"

"What in the name of the Sacred Forest do you think you're bloody doing?!" Slowly, the obviously entwined couple turned their heads to the door way and Jareth swore under his breath when his eyes fell on Auranar. The Elvin was trembling with rage and with a low growl he began to stalk forward. Celeste's eyes widened and darted from the couple to her husband. Her mouth trembled as Auranar reached half way between the door and the throne then finally she blurted out-

"I'm pregnant!"

"Wha-" He span round on his heal, whimpered slightly and fell back, straight as a board to land on the stone floor, unconscious.

"That went better than I thought it would," she said breathlessly, now trembling herself.

Jareth gave a slight nod of agreement then added, "So, when are you going to tell him that Angels always have twins?"

"When he asks why I'm so big for my time."

* * *

Unlike when they travelled to the Gremlin Kingdom, their landing in Avian was not a smooth one. With a yelp, Sarah tripped over Jareth's boot clad feet and fell over, her tight gip on him bringing him tumbling to the ground with her. Or rather knocking him to the ground and her landing on top of him. And what was the first thing he said?

"Sarah! If you'd wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask."

She should have severely chastised him, for all the good it would do. He would most likely enjoy it. So she settled for laughing and playfully swatting his shoulder before climbing off him and to her feet then helping him up. Only then did she take the time to look around.

They were in the middle of a wide open grassy plain land with huge green bison like animals lazily grazing. And only about fifty yards away was a small building surrounded by a white picket fence. All in all, the scene was rather idyllic. A whistling bird song was coming from the building, getting slightly louder.

"That must be Alfred, he always whistles when he's in a good mood. He'd whistle every time he was leaving the castle when he was my teacher." Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Why am I not surprised that you were a nightmare child." She stated blandly as a very tall, very odd looking creature that she guessed must be Alfred began to back out of the small building. He was at least eight foot tall and impossibly thin. But then he was a yellow stalk like bird, with a huge plume sweeping back from his head. His wide fanning tail poking out from tan coloured shorts, leaving his long spindly orange legs on display.

He threw something Sarah couldn't quiet back out, but the tiny sound of shattering glass reached her when it hit the ground. "What is that place any way?" She asked as Alfred turned around and quickly made his way out of the buildings garden.

"It's Alfred's School. He always wanted a proper building to teach in instead of doing tuition work where ever he could."

Still whistling he reached into the breast pocket of his garish wait coat with wing feathers that behaved like fingers. She couldn't tell what it was, but he seemed like he was in a good mood. Jareth's eyes widened an he grabbed her. Dragging her to the grown as he swore harshly.

"What's wro-"

A loud explosion cut her off and she rapidly covered her head.

Slowly the couple raised their head to stare in shock at the burning school. Eyes wide as Alfred walked towards them with a bounce in his step, whistling brightly. Neither of them rose to their feet. They simply stayed on the floor, staring at the approaching Birdling. It didn't take long for him to reach them and stop, looking down to them. He rolled his shoulders, gave a high note then stopped and tilted his head.

"What? No sarcastic remark? I'm disappointed in you Jareth," was his greeting. "I take it we're all fucked again?" Sarah glanced to Jareth for his reaction. He blinked a few times then slowly climbed to his feet and helped her up.

"I do hope none of your pupils were in there." Alfred looked over his shoulder and gave an uncaring shrug.

"I don't think they were but to be perfectly honest the little sods deserved to die if they were."

"So the schooling hasn't been the dream you thought it was?" Alfred gave a harsh squawk like laugh.

"All of them! Every damn student was like you but worse! You at least flinched every time you annoyed me to bluff going to hit you! Those little shits! Nothing cowed them. Nothing! Not one of them even had the scholarly instincts of you're lovely sister. It was like teaching a school full of you, Ribbon and Vanity with the odd clinically depressed Echo here and there.

"Who the bloody hell are you any way?"

"You can tell you're in a good mood from how much you're swearing," Jareth commented dryly.

"I'm Sarah. Jareth's girlfriend and the last descendant of the Sylph King left living." The yellow bird looked to her, her eyes taking in her form.

"I give the relationship about four month and your life about three weeks, so no problems then." She looked to Jareth for a moment as he glared at Alfred.

"Is he always this pessimistic?"

"I prefer the term realistic. Anyway I'm assuming you're here about the barrier? Reforming the squadron?"

"I'm not even going to ask about how you knew that, but yes." Alfred clicked his beak in what she assumed was his version of a smile.

"Well let's see; Vanity getting broke out of prison, Ribbon and Echo abandoning the Vampire army, you're sister moving out of her little cave on your coast. It wasn't that hard to put together with my talents. Not heard about any change with Brock though and obviously Auranar is a none ent-"

"Actually he's back and with Celeste. She's pregnant now you know?"

"Really? I'm surprised that bloody daft Elvin hasn't ran a mile knowing he's got two children on the way." There was a pause during which Jareth smirked. "He doesn't know there's two does he?" Grinning, the Goblin King shook his head. Alfred gave a loud squawk. "Oh I hope I'm there when he finds out."

"I doubt you will be. From the way things are going at the moment he'll find out at the birth."

"Sounds rather typical for their relationship. So exactly how deep in the shit are we this time?"

"Probably about neck deep and sinking." The bird rolled his eyes.

"Typical," he muttered. "Well, as tactical adviser I suppose I should come with you to try and make sure you don't get everyone killed. Besides, your girl is quite attractive for someone without feathers and I'm curious about her intellect. You don't tend to go for the intelligent but this one has a look in her eye that says she know what a book is."

"That's probably because I've been trying to write one for years." Wow, he was annoying.

"A woman with creativity. Impressive, though a bit odd. Kind of like a female with bright plumage. A Peahen with blue green feathers. Your species is so backwards, but intriguing none the less."

"And this explains why you've been married nine times," Jareth said dryly, interrupting Sarah's impulse to punch the Birdling.

"Twenty seven now actually."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long but I've been concentrating on my book lately (working on Chapter Nine now) and there has been a lot going on which meant I just didn't have time to work on this.

Any way, thank you to FaeriesMidwife, notwritten, sweetbabby33, cajunsprout, Nagasasu, Princess of the Fae and In this world live all words for taking the time to review. I really appriciate it and hope that others will follow their stellar example hint hint.


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